


Kentucky Fried Bullshit

by Usetheladiesroom



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dirty Thoughts, Emotional Baggage, Explicit Language, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Real Sorry About That, M/M, My First AO3 Post, Nothing Is Really Set In Stone You Guys, One-Sided Attraction, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Some Fluff, Tags May Change, This Really Isn't All That Great, at least for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2018-10-27 05:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10802283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Usetheladiesroom/pseuds/Usetheladiesroom
Summary: There was a man.Sleeping on the goddamn bed.Like the world hadn't gone to fucking shit.Just. Fucking. Sleeping.AU in which Negan finds Rick's comatose body while scavenging in the ruins of the Harrison Memorial Hospital and grows attached.





	1. Sleeping Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! As the tags state, this is my first fic on this site! I thought i'd never put this account to use until now, and I certainly never thought i'd start out with a Regan fic of all fics, but here I am! I'm not really much of a writer as I am a drawer, but i'm gonna do my best to kick this story into fruition.
> 
> I understand there's already a fic on here that has Rick and Negan meet at the beginning of the apocalypse (which is really great and y'all should check it out if you haven't already), but I found it surprising that there wasn't one that had Rick and Negan meet while the man was still in a coma, so I just went and ran with it!
> 
> Another thing I have to address is the fact that this story takes place in Kentucky instead of Georgia. This story more or less follows the show, for the most part, besides that little fact, and also contains Negan's origin in the comics. 
> 
> With all that being said, I hope y'all enjoy it!

It had only been a few days since he happened upon the quiet town of buttfuck Kentucky, when Negan had found the hospital. He had been taking a stroll with his darling bat Lucille, enjoying the scenery when he was suddenly met with an entirely new area that he had not yet had the chance to explore. Seeing it as a rather golden opportunity to both praise and to be wary of, Negan found himself walking through an abandoned army base that led straight down a hill and to the hospital in all its glory. But rather than storming the place, guns blazin', he instead took another few days to plan and prepare for this certain venture with care. He circled the area thoroughly, making it his business to know where it was safer to enter and exit the building from, and had even rummaged through the empty base to add a fuckload of bullets to his ever increasing collection.

And now, today was the fucking day.

With Lucille in his right hand, and his backpack filled to the brim with the best shit that he could find, Negan made his way down the hill with long confident strides. He had come to the conclusion a while back that it was safer to enter the hospital through the back as opposed to the front as there were more dead shits collected there than the latter that were actually fucking dead, and so he found himself making his way through the hospital's makeshift graveyard, none too worried about what he might exactly find there. After all, those fucks weren't really all that smart when it really came down to it, right? They weren't just going to grab at his ankles when he least expected it, and bite at him as a game over screen appeared out of thin air, were they?

He decided not to ponder on whether the undead could absorb brain power through their supposedly massive appetites as he walked past the hundreds of bodies that laid before him and reached for the door. The door had opened with ease; and from what he could see through the darkness, there was a stairwell. With his head pressed against the wall, Negan listened for any uneven footsteps and growls that would indicate that those dead fucks were inside. When it was all clear, he took out a lighter that he had conveniently found the other day and closed the door behind him. Negan then decided, after a game of eeny meeny miny mo, that he'd search the closest level first and then make his way to the others consecutively, and so he made it all the way up the first set of stairs and entered the third floor with little to no resistance. While this concerned him, he was relieved to see that some of the lights on the floor were still working and quickly put out his lighter. As he passed the initial hub that housed both the elevators and the exit that he had entered from, he immediately stumbled upon a pair of doors that were, fortunately for him, barred and chained up. A warning splayed across the doors and he instantly had to bite his fist to keep from making noise when he had read it wrong.

' **DON'T DEAD, OPEN INSIDE**.'

God, he was acting like a goddamn pre-teen who just made his first boob joke. 'Pull yourself together, you fucking dipshit!' Negan thought, scolding himself for the abrupt change in his demeanor.

It obviously read, ' **DON'T OPEN, DEAD INSIDE** ' and just like that, right on damn cue, the fingers of the dead began to push their way through the crack between the doors and the sounds of their groaning grew louder and louder as they sensed his very presence. Negan, however, merely shrugged his shoulders and walked away, leaving the dead to mind their own goddamn business as he proceeded to take a tour of the floor, grinning when he noticed the irony of those fucks being locked inside a cafeteria of all things.

The hospital, in of itself, was decrepit; rundown like all the other places that he had run into in the past. Papers were strewn across the floor, and bullet holes seeping with dried blood decorated the walls. It was obvious that the military had done their best to grant mercy to all the patients that resided here, or at least, gave them what they thought was mercy. He could imagine the bloodbath that had unfolded as they murdered the innocent. Some in their sleep. Some in the halls. The evidence was everywhere, and the bodies that resided in the hospital's backlot was proof enough of the carnage. But other than the overwhelming amount of bloodshed that had undoubtedly occurred, the floor was pretty loaded when it came down to bandages and disinfectant and he couldn't help but be overjoyed. Negan took as much as he could fit in his bag, slinging one of the straps over his left shoulder as he continued to wander through various hallways in search of more shit.

And then, he saw it. While most of the doors were left open, one stood out among the rest. This particular door was shut with a stretcher blocking it from entry. Like it was keeping something inside. The door he was currently looking at didn't have any warnings crudely written on it. There weren't any locks or chains that held it in place. It was just an ordinary door. He didn't know why it unnerved him so much, maybe it was like that saying about open doors being less likely to get at you then closed ones. Or was it the other way around? Wait, wasn't this a song? Shit, focus Negan! Taking a deep breath, Negan knocked on the door three times with the barrel of Lucille. When he didn't hear anything he opened the door which, surprisingly, wasn't locked. If there were any dead shits in the room they would've been at the the door already, and thankfully there were none. Pushing the stretcher to the side, Negan entered the room only to have his jaw hit the floor.

There was a man.

Sleeping on the goddamn bed.

Like the world hadn't gone to fucking shit.

Just. Fucking. Sleeping.

Perplexed, Negan took a quick look outside the room and back, thinking that maybe one of those dead fucks would suddenly appear out of nowhere and fucking do a goddamn spit take with him. When it was made quite clear that that wasn't going to happen anytime soon, he, much to his own damn bewilderment, shut the door softly as to not disturb the man from his slumber. Clutching Lucille tightly in his grip, Negan cautiously made his way to the bed and-

Holy fuck.

This bedridden fuck was gorgeous as shit.

It would've been easy to dismiss the guy, what with the amount of hair that covered his face and chest, but seeing as civilization was dead and the fact that he probably looked much worse in comparison, this guy was a true diamond in the rough. Underneath all that man fuzz, were a pair of lips that, though cracked, were a lovely shade of pink. He also had long eyelashes that rested daintily against his cheeks, and a head of short brown curls that he would just love to run his fingers through. If he hadn't known any better, he'd say he stumbled upon a scene from a fairytale and that he was the prince come to break the damn spell. Negan then chuckled to himself, thinking maybe he should give the guy a little kiss, but he quickly thought against it. The man probably didn't want to wake up to find some stranger giving him a big wet one, and Negan realized that he probably had a case of bad breath anyway. Yeah, no way was he going to give this poor fucker a kiss anytime soon. At least, not unless the guy wanted one. But the chances of that ever happening were probably slim to none.

Suddenly taken by impulse, Negan lightly poked the man's cheek and was surprised to feel skin against his own. This was real. This man was real. And apparently, the guy was a heavy sleeper. He would've thought that the dead rising would turn everyone into paranoid insomniacs, but he guessed there would be a few exceptions regardless. Seeing as the man wasn't going to wake up any time soon, Negan began to look around the room to get an idea of who the hell this guy was. It was obvious that the guy was a patient of the hospital as he was wearing a gown of all things, but when he shifted through the drawers he discovered an officer's uniform and that intrigued him quite greatly. He tore his gaze away from the clothes and looked around a bit more until he found the thing that would explain everything to him. A medical report. That was hanging at the foot of the bed.

_Name: Rick Grimes. Age: 34. Sex: Male. Hair Color: Brown. Eye Color: Blue. Case of Incident: Shot in the shoulder, as well as on the side, after a shootout gone wrong. Is currently in an extensive coma since-_

Coma.

This motherfucker has been in a goddamn coma.

A goddamn fucking coma.

Negan laughed. It began as a small snicker that he didn't mean to let out, but then it evolved into something loud and obnoxious that reminded him of his old self in a way. But who wouldn't laugh? This shit was probably the funniest shit he'd heard ever since the world ended, and so, he laughed. He laughed until his sides hurt. He laughed until his face was red and he was out of breath. And then he laughed some more.

When he had finally calmed down, Negan went and laid Lucille on the counter and dumped his backpack on the ground. He moved one of the chairs in the room so that it was beside the bed, and sat down. This poor fucker has been asleep since this whole shitshow began. Which meant...who knew when he was going to wake up? If he was a lucky man, he'd be able to get through this whole mess unscathed when the government finally had a firm grip on the situation. But that was a dream wasn't it? This was life now, and there was no way in hell that the world would ever return to normal. This was what normal was now. Survival of the goddamn fittest. And Negan just had to be the asshole to ruin Rick's chances of ever getting out of this shit alive. He couldn't leave the poor bastard. Not now. But there would be a time when he'd eventually have to leave, and that would be the moment of truth, wouldn't it?

He sighed, rubbing his face in frustration as he stared at the man before him. And then at his chest. And then at his stomach where there were toned muscles that he perhaps stared a bit too long at, and lower. But that's only because the gown he was wearing was open wide for anyone to see, and the boxers that he was wearing left little to the imagination. Deeming it all indecent, Negan hurriedly shoved the blanket that was much too low on the man's body for his liking, and covered him up. Whoever left him like this sure as fuck wanted the world to know that Rick Grimes was one hell of a babe.


	2. Insomnia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, first of all, I just wanted to thank y'all for all the kind words and support that you've given the first chapter! I didn't think it was gonna fare all too well, but you guys definitely proved me wrong! You guys rock! :D
> 
> Second of all, i'm thinking of updating this on a weekly basis! It's not set in stone, like the tags for this story, but i'm gonna do my best to keep up with it. 
> 
> And lastly, I just gotta reiterate, i'm not much of a writer, so if this chapter isn't all that great, i'm truly sorry! And to be honest, nothing much really happens in this chapter, so if you're disappointed, I totally get you.

Having been distracted by Rick and his current state of undress, Negan failed to notice that rain had begun to fall until he heard a loud crack of thunder and was abruptly brought back to reality. Shit. He hadn't accounted for God to weep like an angry little bitch today, especially not since it had been sunny as all fuck when he had made his way to the hospital this morning. There was no way in hell he was going back out there, not while the weather was stabbing him in the fucking back like this. 

Rain was a double edged sword nowadays, that Negan knew for certain. Sure, on one hand, you could get some good ol' drinking water out of it which was always a pro in his book, but if you were in a sore spot, you best believe that you'll be meeting your maker as soon as those first few droplets hit the ground. The rain made it hard to see, and seeing was the one thing you absolutely needed when dealing with the dead. 

Oh, you thought you saw your best buddy Mike over there? No, it's one of those dead fucks. 

Was that your girlfriend signaling for you to come over? No, Julie's actually in the back getting her arms chewed off, it's just one of those dead fucks. 

You think you can safely navigate your way back to home base? You thought wrong fuckface, there's a horde of those dead bastards just waiting for your cute little ass.

The point is, rain was the cause of instant fatalities, and Negan came to know this fun little fact through experience. He'd lost countless people over the past few weeks for bad decisions alone when it came to the shit. He witnessed people he'd grown fond of lay waste in ruin as he was forced to watch those fucking things climb on top of them and proceed to tear them the fuck apart. At first, Negan had tried to help them, emphasis on tried, but as the scenario came up over and over again, he had learned to block out the screams and the cries for help, and settled for making it to his next destination in one piece. They were beyond help. It was their fault, not his. They all just had to be so damned weak, always had to look to him for guidance, for protection, and in the end they couldn't even save themselves. Fuck them for making him care, fuck them all in the fucking ass.

Not wanting to think anymore about the people he had oh so casually had to abandon, Negan got out from his chair and made his way to the bathroom with clenched fists. It was small, the sink being front and center while the toilet sat in the corner, but sadly there was no shower as far as he could see. Curious as to whether or not the sink actually worked, he turned the faucet and, much to his delight, there was running water. In an instant, Negan cupped his hands together and drank the water between them, smiling like an idiot as he greedily consumed handful after handful. As he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, Negan looked up only to jump back in surprise as he saw his face in the mirror. Boy did he need a goddamn shave! The last time he'd seen his reflection he had been holed up in a gas station at the border of Alabama. He had only stubble back then, and now he could see the full extent of the beard that he had grown over time. It wasn't that big, thank God, but it was certainly an entity all on it's own. The hair on his head didn't grow much besides an inch or two, but it was no doubt greasy from being unwashed as he wiped the leftover oil onto his jeans. His eyes worried him the most, however, as they were bloodshot and had bags underneath them. But then again, that was entirely his fucking fault since he hadn't allowed himself a good night's rest in days. Other than that, he'd say he looked pretty damn good, all things considered. But Rick probably wouldn't approve. No sirree, that man would probably get a heart attack from just the mere sight of him. He'd have to see if any of the stores back in town had any razors that he could use. But in the meantime, he could at least wash up. 

Practically dunking his head in the sink, Negan began to scrub at anything he could get his hands on. His nails dug into his scalp as he ran his fingers through his hair, and the amount of effort that it took to wipe off any residual dirt and blood that caked onto his skin was quite plentiful indeed. After basking in a state that he could only deem as 'clean enough,' he returned to the now dark main room and went straight for his bag. Negan was starving at this point and the only shit he had packed for food were a couple fruit bars he had stocked up on at a general store prior to his trip. Taking one of the aforementioned bars in hand, he sat back in his chair and took a bite out of it. He was never a fan of these things, had never liked the taste of the sugary sweet so obviously 'not' artificial fruit that threatened to make him gag, but in the end it was still food, and he'd just have to make fucking do. 

"Y'know Rick," Negan mumbled as he begrudgingly took another bite out of his supposed meal, "The world ending is one thing, but finding decent food because of it is a whole other thing entirely. Unless you're out hunting or fishing, you can really only rely on this processed shit to last." Glaring at what still remained, Negan groaned loudly and looked to Rick for any sort of feedback. As if the man was able to hear his petty complaints and was more than ready to give a complete response despite his current status of being that one guy that everyone wrote shit on at parties while they were passed out drunk. When Rick understandably doesn't answer back, Negan huffs, shifting in his seat in slight irritation. 

"You'll see when you wake up."

After forcing himself to eat the rest of the bar, Negan mindlessly flicks the wrapper onto the floor. It's not like Rick would care. He's too busy sleeping to nag him about roommate cleanliness. Really he could make the whole goddamn room a mess if he really wanted to and blame it on the world ending or heck, even some guy who supposedly passed through. And that guy's name would be Daryl. Yes, if push came to shove he'd immediately blame that imaginary bastard Daryl for this. But no, he wouldn't trash the room. He was a good upstanding gentleman and he needed Rick to know that when he finally decides to come to. Retrieving the fallen wrapper and stuffing it into his pocket, Negan sighed, folding his arms behind his head as he thought about what he should do next. There wasn't really much that could be done, not at this time of hour. Of course, he could explore the hospital a bit more like he had originally planned to do, but at the same time he felt that staying by Rick's side, at least for tonight, was more important. There was always tomorrow after all.

Looking up at the ceiling, Negan's thoughts began to swarm. There had never truly been a time when he could entirely process the shit he's been through, as being alert was always the backbone to his continued survival. But now, as he sat in this tiny yet somehow safe room, small glimpses of past events began to flash before his very eyes, as well as the pangs of anger and guilt that accompanied them and threatened to swallow him up whole. 

No. 

This was not the time to get in touch with his fucking feelings. 

This was definitely not the time at all. 

He needed a distraction, and he needed it fast. 

Lucille? 

No, he'd be a weepy sack of shit in record time. 

Rick? 

Yeah, Rick would do it. 

And just by mentioning the man's name, countless questions rapidly began to form in his head. 

What kind of person was Rick? Did he act as nice as he looked? Or did he hide behind a facade that fed upon some really dark and twisted shit? He hoped to God that it was none of the latter. It'd be a total bummer if Rick ended up being some shitty asshole instead of the clean, pristine one that he's already placed upon a high pedestal. He perhaps shouldn't think so highly of the guy just yet, but seeing as the man is an officer of the law and the fact that he has a family, Negan liked to think that the guy wasn't so bad. And with that mindset in place, he wondered how Rick would react to the world as it is now. It obviously wouldn't be good, no one really reacts to the apocalypse with open arms and a smile unless they were high as all fuck. So, Rick would probably start out confused, like he had been when he had first found out. He'd then work his way up to scared by the time he sees one of those undead shits in the flesh, and afterwards, he might even cry a bit if he were the type of guy to do that. But seeing as he was a family man, he'd probably push all those feelings aside in favor of asking about his family. Which, now that he mentioned it, where was Rick's family exactly? Are they dead? Are they alive? Did they even care that they left Rick here to presumably rot? Had they really cared they would've stayed with him. Would've found a way to make sure that they were all safe and that they'd be able to protect both him and themselves in the process. Under different circumstances, Negan probably would've been shot dead if he had tried to enter the room because the Grimes family were a bunch of little badasses. But no, Negan was the one here with Rick, and any semblance of Rick's family was nowhere to be seen. What a damn shame.

Fixing his gaze on the man himself, Negan watched the rise and fall of Rick's chest, the one signifier that proved that he was still alive. With a smile on his face, he sank more comfortably into his chair and wished the man before him goodnight, a pleasantry he hadn't allowed himself to give for quite some time now. 

And then, as he rested his head against his hand, Negan closed his eyes.

But he did not sleep.


	3. Deprivation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know it's been quite some time since that last chapter, so y'all know that posting on a weekly basis obviously didn't work out! I'm so sorry for those who have been invested in this story, and hopefully i'll get some more chapters out to you soon. These past couple of months have been mighty stressful, and procrastination honestly hit me really hard for this chapter in particular. You see, I basically have a few rough outlines for each chapter that i've planned out so far, and this one just did not come as easily as the others did.
> 
> But with all that out of the way, I hope you guys enjoy! :)
> 
> And as always, I gotta reiterate, that i'm not much of a writer, so if this chapter isn't all that great, then i'm truly sorry!

As quickly as night had settled into the room, morning came, bursting through the blinds with it's rays of light, and promptly bringing Negan out of his stupor. It was then, after he had gotten over the initial shock of the sun trying to wage war against his eyeballs, that he had gotten the sneaking suspicion that he might've fallen asleep without himself noticing. And if he had, then boy was he in trouble. It wouldn't do to be in the middle of fighting off a bunch of those dead fucks only for him to pass out or some shit just because his body wanted to take a fucking nap. It simply would not do. When night came back around, he was sure as hell going to make sleeping on his own damn terms his number one priority. But for the time being, he had other things to occupy his mind with. Yes sirree, today he was going to go back into town to get the rest of his shit, and make sure that nothing was going to get in the way of him and Rick officially becoming fucking roommates. Yep, that was the plan alright. He could hold off from exploring the rest of the hospital for another day, as it wasn't going anywhere as far as he was concerned. But the same could not be said about the stuff that he had left behind, since for all he knew a bunch of people could've passed through town already and swiped it while he was lollygagging with sleeping beauty over here.

Raising his arms to the ceiling, Negan stood up and stretched. For a second, he felt his heart jump out from his chest when he opened his eyes and he caught sight of the other man in the room, but then he came to his senses and let out a chuckle at his own expense. He was going to have to get used to Rick's presence whether he liked it or not. Frankly, he still couldn't believe that the situation that he found himself in was real for that matter, as if the next time Negan blinked, Rick would be gone in a flash along with the rest of his sanity. Hopefully that didn't happen anytime soon, but the wake up call to reality would be mighty helpful if that really were the case. 

After washing his face and eating another one of those god blasted bars as breakfast, Negan slipped on his backpack and grabbed Lucille. It had become a routine of his, after he had taken Lucille from her original owner, to take a few practice swings in the morning so that he could get used to the feeling of her in his grip. But now, he just did it for the sake of the routine itself. When he was satisfied, Negan headed out the door, but not without reassuring Rick that he'd be back before nightfall. Closing the door on his way out, he placed the stretcher that had been guarding the room back in its rightful place, and made his way to the stairs. However, he stopped on the way down and looked back up as he was suddenly hit by a pang of uncertainty. Rick could use a bit more protection, couldn't he?

No. 

Rick is fine.

Keep on trucking you sorry ass piece of shit.

Letting out a sigh, Negan made it to the exit and walked out the door before he could go back up the stairs and barricade his and Rick's room for extra measure. Rick is fine. Rick is safe. There is absolutely no need to run back up there just so you can have an excuse to babysit the poor fuck. After all, he's been able to take care of himself just fine, and he's been asleep this whole entire time, for chrissake! Absolutely no need whatsoever. 

As he stepped off the platform, Negan lifted the front of his shirt to cover the lower half of his face, and trudged through the bodies that laid upon the tarmac. This, however, did nothing as a wave of shit still managed to assault his nose which left him gagging as he quickly made his way to the hill. Although the rain had managed to wash away the maggots that had been feasting on the dead for weeks, it somehow managed to intensify the smell that cascaded off them, and Negan was left to empty out what little was in his stomach onto the grass beneath his feet. Nature be damned.

But with vomit, came the residual taste of bile, and it was the first sign that Negan probably shouldn't have headed out today. Well, besides the fact that his lack of sleep had made him even more unfocused at times, which was definitely a big fuck you to the rules that he had already set up for himself. But Negan, being the stubborn jackass that he was, sucked it up and continued his journey back to town. As he said, nothing was going to keep him and Rick from being the best of roommates, and anything was worth it to eat something other than the obnoxiously fruity shit that he now regretted packing. 

Thankfully, the trip itself didn't take so long thanks to days spent surveying the area, and by the time the sun had become almost unbearable he was greeted with the sight of broken down cars and empty streets. It was a downright ghost town, and for the moment, the emptiness of it all was as welcome as could be. He hadn't even run into any of those dead fuckers on the way down, which was strange, but like hell was he complaining. 

After roaming the streets for a few blocks, Negan finally made it to Pam's Antiques, a little store that he had set up shop in when he had first arrived in town. It was one of many, considering the bodies that he had found in each building prior, and he had been extremely thrilled when he had found the store absent of Pam herself, and by extension, her customers for that matter. Of course, Pam, being the eponymous cat lady that she was, had housed a litter of cats in the little shop but they all had scrammed as soon as he had given them a way out. 

Now entering Pam's through the back door, Negan was relieved to find that his little corner of the store had been left undisturbed. He would've freaked the fuck out had the place been swept clean, but lucky for him, it seemed like no one seemed to either know or care about the small town of Cynthiana much to actually stay long enough to search for shit. Which was merely a loss for them because there was a lot of shit to be found, all things considered. Shrugging his backpack off his shoulders, Negan kneeled down on the ground and unzipped the bag as he began stuffing it with the things that he had left behind as well as what remained of his food stash. He was going to miss this place alright, for all of six days that he had stayed in it. It was cozy, and it reminded him of his grandma's place back in Illinois, but Rick's room was no doubt safer, and it smelled way better than whatever the fuck was causing the store to smell like an unwashed cooch in the middle of July. And, as a bonus, it also had plumbing for the most part, which was a major plus in his book if he did say so himself.

After gathering his things, Negan said his goodbyes to the shop and exited it without a second glance. As he took a second to take in the fresh air and the sweltering heat, he was suddenly reminded of the supermarket that resided at the end of the street. He supposed he ought to check it out while he was still in town, but he wondered if it was truly worth it. He already had all the things that he had set out to get; he had his blankets for when it got cold at night, and he had food, which were all more than he could ask for. He was all set to go, and yet the thought nagged at him as he took his first steps back towards the hospital.

Nah. 

Fuck it.

He was gonna do it anyway. There'd be no harm in checking the place out, and he could always use the extra supplies now that he was with Rick. The guy would probably like to eat some real ass food when he woke up, now wouldn't he? Besides, it'd certainly save him the trouble of having to go out and hunt as frequently as he did back when he had been out on the road.

And so, Negan made his way to the market. But as he marched up to the entrance, Negan could feel the beginnings of a headache come to fruition as it began to lightly throb inside his head. When squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose did nothing to ease the pain, he grabbed the bottle of water that hung from his bag and took a few sips before splashing his face with it. If he was going to do this, then he was going to have to be even more alert than he was already. Which wasn't saying much if he were completely honest with himself. But he pressed on.

Prying the automatic doors open, Negan stepped inside, Lucille at the ready.

Saying that the place was a fucking mess was a complete understatement, as various shards of glass were scattered across the floor alongside the boxes and cans that cluttered the aisles. There were no bodies that he could see from where he stood, but he could see the leftover blood as dried drops and splatters became puddles if one were to follow their individual trails, and he figured that said bodies left on their own accord one way or another before the store had been closed down for good. And despite it being relatively quiet for the most part, the only noise that resonated within the four walls was the insistent buzzing of the lights as they flickered in a daze, welcoming him to the chaos that was left over from possibly a month prior; when shit had truly hit the fan.

Back when he was still big on being a part of the whole group dynamic, Negan had always been the one to bring up the topic of what everyone had been doing when the dead had first started making their rounds. It would always be after dinner when he brought it up, when most of the group would be together, and he'd draw them all in with a story that he'd bullshit on the spot. He never spoke of Lucille, as mentioning her had always been a no-no back in those days, and if he were to be honest he probably wouldn't mention her to Rick if he could help it, but he digressed. One by one, they'd each tell their own story, opening up to one another about the horrors that they had faced, and finding comfort in the fact that they could all share in the loss and the grief that they all felt. And that had been good, he had been happy for them. But honestly, he had always brought the subject up for his amusement, and his amusement alone. He could always find a sense of irony in each story that was being told, and he guessed it was his way of coping if he really thought about it. And yet, his amusement would always die down when it came to one particular story that seemed to always pop up wherever he went. The infamous supermarket story. There was always that one sad fuck who had been in a store, or, god forbid, even stranded at a mall, of all places, when everything went to shit. They would be doing something menial, like grabbing a bag of fucking cheetos on the go, when suddenly the intercom would go off. A nervous employee would take their sweet ass time in addressing the crowd, telling them what they knew about the situation, and that they all should stay calm to prevent further disaster. But of course, they didn't. Once the guy would be finished talking, there'd be silence, a moment of reflection if you will. And then, the uproar. Next thing everyone knew, the whole building would be in a state of complete and utter mayhem. 

There was something startling in the way that the person would tell their story, as they described the things that people, not the dead, were willing to do. How they'd fight, how willing they were to kill each other over the last can of tuna, or better yet, how they'd just up and lose their humanity to save their own skins. One minute, they were civilized, just your everyday five-to-niner, the next, they were animals. Eventually the dead would make their way into the store, and the whole place would be undead central in just a matter of time. After that, the person would always follow up their story with their own daring escape, but the thing that stayed in everyone's minds was the first part. It reminded people of what they were capable of, and what they still are capable of.

As he continued to wrap his head around the duality of man, Negan sauntered through the aisles with a spring in his step. His eyelids drooped every so often, but that didn't stop him as he held out his bag and filled it with whatever was salvageable from the wreck. Surprisingly, he ended up shoving a whole row of soup cans that somehow still managed to stand the test of time into the damned thing. Apparently some people still found it in their hearts to be picky during the apocalypse, but he supposed that another man's loss was just another win for him. Along with the fuckload of soup that he acquired, he also managed to rally up a few razors that he most definitely needed, and a whole hell of alot of beef jerky to boot. The latter of which he just could not wait to get his hands on as he practically ripped open one of the bags. Negan stuffed his mouth with the dried meat and moaned with a sense of gratification. Never again was he going to resort to eating Special K like a goddamn soccer mom. Never again.

Content with what he managed to gather up, Negan zipped his bag back up, and made his way out of the building only to find some of the not so dearly departed waiting for him. He hadn't thought he had made that much noise, but then again he had been much less attentive to his surroundings thanks to his lack of awareness, and the way he did things were probably much more different than how he thought he was doing them. Like, perhaps, the way his light footsteps were actually heavy as he unwittingly stomped on the ground, or how some of the thoughts that convulsed in his head were actually being spoken out loud. Things like that, he reckoned would arouse attention regardless of how his mind interpreted it. Taking a deep breath, Negan swiftly made his way to the first of the small horde, swinging Lucille as he reveled in the way that the barrel had hit their skull just so. And boy was that a pick me up! With a newfound sense of glee, Negan happily struck down each and every undead fuck that came his way. Swing after swing, blow after blow, set each of those fuckers down to their knees for him to finish them off. But by the time he was done, the weariness that he had felt before had come back in full force. His arms had begun to hurt from the strain of each swing, his breathing had come out in hard short bursts, and he had begun to feel even more lightheaded as his sense of focus shifted from left to right. 

It was time to go back, Negan realized. He had no more business that needed to be dealt with in this motherfucking town, and the more he stayed, the more likely he was going to faint and get eaten by the town's undead residents. And there was no way that he was going to allow for that to happen. Not after all this time. No way in hell was he gonna die like a little bitch just because of one tiny little mistake. He's already made it this far, and like hell was he going to let some shriveled up piece of shit get in the fucking way of that.

As sweat trailed down his face like tears, Negan slowly but surely made his way back to the hospital. But as each step brought him closer to his goal, the more an unseen weight seemed to fall upon him as he stumbled his way down the path to his salvation. His eyes were left wide open, but for each time he blinked, he felt time get the best of him as things began to come at him more quickly then he anticipated.

And then, out of nowhere, one of those undead piece of shits just had to come across his path. Shaking his head to keep himself focused, Negan raised his arms into position. And that's when he made eye contact with the thing and he simply lost it. Picking up his tired legs, he ran towards the fucker, swinging Lucille down on it's head. Again, and again, until the skull shattered into pieces and all that was left was a puddle of thin brown liquid and mush. And yet, he still swung. That is, until he noticed a crack begin to form on Lucille, and he realized that if he kept it up then she might break. Horrified, Negan stopped in his tracks and brought the bat up to his face, fervently apologizing to it like a madman.

After that, everything had begun to blur. He remembered that he had started running, and then the world fucking spun and he was watching himself reach the hospital instead as a shroud of black flashed every time he managed to close his eyes. By the time he made it to the building, he was out of breath, his head pounding harder than ever. Opening the exit door, he slowly made his way up the stairs. His feet dragged on the floor as he took each step, along with Lucille, and he felt like he could pass out at any moment. After walking for what felt like forever, Negan felt relief hit him like a train when he saw the stretcher in front of Rick's room and he picked up the pace as he ran to the proverbial finish line. 

Shoving the stretcher out of the way with perhaps a bit too much force, Negan opened the door and staggered into the room. After taking a moment to gently place Lucille onto the counter, he let his backpack unceremoniously drop to the ground and moved to sit in his chair. As he folded his tired arms onto the bed in front of him, Negan slumped forward and rested his head on top of them. His body shook and trembled, and he ached all over, but surprisingly he made no move to address the room with his voice. All that he could hear was how hard he was breathing, and he could feel his eyes water, but from what he wasn't certain. It was like he was in a state of shock, except shock wasn't exactly what he was feeling, it was something else entirely. Anger? Joy? Whatever it was, it left him cold as a wave of confusion came and went as his body stilled. After a moment of complete and utter silence, his hands involuntarily reached out, blindly searching for anything he could hold onto, until they grabbed ahold of what ended up being one of Rick's hands. Gradually he brought the hand up to his face, letting the knuckles rest against his forehead as he sighed. The gesture comforted him. The smell of Rick's skin comforted him. And the feeling of the man's hand relieved him in a way that he just couldn't put to words. He had almost forgotten what another person's touch felt like, what it was like to feel something that was still warm and alive press against him. Later on he would realize what he was doing when he held Rick's hand with his own, how much it reminded him of those last few days with Lucille, and he would cast it away like the very act had burned him. But as for right now, all that mattered was that he was here, that he was safe, and that everything was fine for the time being.

And so, Negan stayed like that. 

With Rick bringing him a sense of peace, and the ever alluring call of sleep drawing him to a close, his eyelids drooped, until they inevitably shut.

And for the first time in days, Negan allowed himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so y'all know that I know what i'm doing with this dang story, the thing that all y'all want will finally happen in Chapter 5! :D
> 
> Also, if y'all want to be the first to know when the story is updated, or you just want to talk, my tumblr is noteblue13!


	4. Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Gosh I know it's been so long since that last chapter, and please know that I am not doing this intentionally! Things just keep popping up, and it's just been rather stressful! Also, I had a slight change of heart when it came to the outcome of this chapter, so that also delayed this update as well.
> 
> Really I was hoping to actually get two chapters out today, but y'all will just have to settle for this one while I work on the fifth, and thank Lana Del Rey, Glen Campbell, and a bunch of Regan vids that I watched on loop for this chapter coming to be! :D
> 
> But with all that out of the way, I hope you guys enjoy! :)
> 
> And as always, I gotta reiterate, that i'm not much of a writer, so if this chapter isn't all that great, then i'm truly sorry!

On the days that followed, Negan's entire existence merely consisted of eating and sleeping. It was to get his strength up, he told himself, so that nothing ended up being as bad as his last trip to town had fucking been. But he'd be lying if he said that he didn't enjoy not having to worry about shit for the time being. The fuckery of the outside world stayed outside, and the hospital, for the most part, was his retreat. Soon enough, his health had gone back to normal, and the crack that had appeared on Lucille had mysteriously vanished, all for which he could only chalk up to having been a trick of the mind. Eventually, he did make his rounds around the hospital, but he only ended up getting a surplus of the things that he had already got on his and Rick's floor, much to his disappointment. The only exceptions, however, were the piles of junk that he had retrieved from the vending machines on the second floor, and a pad of paper, along with a pen, that he had taken off of one of the service desks for safekeeping.

Other than that, most of his time was spent in Rick's room. There wasn't much that he could do, as Rick wasn't really the talkative type, but he kept himself busy nevertheless by gradually integrating more and more of his shit into the room itself. One day he'd be storing food into one of the empty drawers of Rick's dresser, the next he'd be counting how many bullets he currently had in his inventory. After some time, the room had become an equal parts mish mash of his and Rick's things, and Negan could officially say that he and Rick were on the road to becoming the best of friends.

But as for today, Negan couldn't help but find himself getting a little bored. It wasn't normal for him to get like this, especially since the dead were currently outside eating face, both figuratively and literally, as he spoke. But as the days wore on and on with him being holed up in the same room for days on end, surrounded by the peace and quiet that accompanied it, he decided that enough was enough. He needed to get out. He needed to go outside and do some shit. Wrestle a bear, maybe go and hunt squirrels for the thrill of it, anything so that he could just spread his legs and fucking breathe a little. With only himself and his thoughts, even he found himself to be annoying, and that was quite a feat considering he liked himself quite alot. Distractions were welcome as far as he was concerned, but all he needed was for that little light bulb in his head to go off, and give himself an actual reason to get out of the hospital for the meantime. And as he pondered, he found one. Picking up his head from where he had previously smothered it against Rick's sheets, Negan's eyes strayed away from the skin of his arms until they rested upon the flowers that were placed on the man's bedside table. They were wilted, dried to the point that if he were to lay a single finger onto one of their petals, the whole damn thing would collapse almost immediately. And this, this scared Negan for some reason. 

What if Rick ended up like these flowers? 

His good looks shriveled up in the face of rotting flesh? 

The flowers scared him more than the dead at this point, and that's when he decided what he was going to do. 

He was going to find Rick some new flowers.

And as strange as that had sounded as he repeated it out loud, that's exactly what he did. When he came back several hours later, his bag was filled to the brim with wildflowers, and he was eating up every single second of it. Strutting into the room, Negan took the gaudy vase that held the old flowers in hand, and brought it straight to the bathroom. He discarded the dried up remains into the trash bin below, before he dumped the putrid liquid that was still leftover into the sink, filling up the vase with fresh water in its wake. With a look of triumph, Negan made his way back to Rick's bedside table and placed the vase back in its usual spot as he went to grab his bag from the other side of the room. He had left it open to keep the little shits from wilting, and although his knowledge of taking care of the damn things was rather varied at best, he was more than happy to find that most of them had survived the trip back. Sifting through the flowers, Negan was determined to find the very best ones, and when he was determined, there was no way of stopping him. Twenty minutes of sorting and wrangling the little fucks later, and he finally found the right combination of colors that would best suit Rick and his stupid vase. After cutting down the stems and making sure they looked somewhat decent, Negan gently placed the new and improved flowers into the vase. He spent a few more minutes arranging them several times until they looked their very best, but other than that, they were ready for the camera; if he had one that is, but sadly he did not. All he could do was stare at them, and that was fine he guessed. They sure did look pretty to look at, and he bet that Rick would probably appreciate all the hard work that he had put into them once he finally decides to wake up.

And so, Negan continued to take in the beauty of the flowers, proud of his accomplishment, no matter how small it was. 

And then-

Boredom struck him once again.

That is, until he moved to rub his face out of frustration only for his fingers to get tangled in scraggly strands of unkempt hair and he was immediately reminded that he still had yet to shave his beard.

Now that, was something to do.

Grinning like a madman at the prospect of having something else to distract himself with, Negan swiftly gathered one of the many still packaged razors that he had stacked on the counter, and the knife that he had just used to cut the stems of the flowers with. On his way to the bathroom once more, Negan spotted Lucille in the corner of his eye, perched on top of the dresser. Out of a bout of giddiness, he just couldn't help but blow a kiss in her direction. It was a silly gesture, sure, but then again, that never stopped him from doing jackshit. Bringing his tools of choice to the sink, Negan placed the razor and the knife on either side of the faucet. Glancing up at the mirror, he took a moment to take one last look at himself with his beard. If he were honest with himself, he'd say he would miss the damn thing. He had already gotten used to the way that it clung to his face, and he had grown to appreciate it when the nights were cold, but no. It was time for it to go. He had had enough. It was time to bring back the old Negan for Rick's sake, and that meant that his face was gonna be smooth as fuck whether he liked it or not. With a nod at his own reflection, Negan took the knife in hand, and set to work. His hand would cramp up every so often, as he cut off piece after piece of the wretched thing, but he eventually pulled through and soon enough he was able to bring the razor into the mix. And boy, was it smooth sailing from then on. After what had seemed like a fucking eternity of cutting and shaving and filling the sink with a ton of his hair, he was finally done. 

Rinsing the remaining hairs that still stuck to his cheeks, Negan brought his hands up to his face and felt at the parts that were now free of his scruff, admiring himself in the mirror. He looked fucking good, if he did say so himself. Without the beard, he automatically looked years younger, and he could at long last see the lines on his face that Lucille had loved so much. She had loved the way that he had smiled, always saying that it was a good judge of character for someone to have laugh lines because then they knew that the person behind them knew how to have a good time. It was one of the reasons she had fallen for him in the first place, and him vice versa. Negan smiled fondly, tracing where one line ended and the other began, like she had used to. But then, he stopped. His hand became rigid, and the smile on his face immediately turned into a frown, as familiarity became a void of crippling melancholy. 

Gripping both sides of the sink to the point of pain, Negan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force down his own grief as it tried to break free from his mental grip. And in the end, it was no match for him.

After a moment, he let his hands relax, and he simply let the rest of himself go. His harrowed features became lax, and the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes stilled.

And with a deep breath, Negan walked out of the bathroom, and fixed himself some lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes. The next chapter is a pretty big chapter *(well not big in length, just big by way of its importance), since the thing that you all have been waiting for finally happens.
> 
> Rick finally decides to wake the fuck up.
> 
> And on a side-note, i'm gonna try and finish this story up before the new season arrives, but that isn't a guarantee. 
> 
> *lol innuendo


	5. Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Aren't y'all glad that I didn't take a month or two to update like last time? Cuz i'm certainly glad! :D
> 
> Had I written things differently, y'all would've gotten another somewhat filler chapter with Rick still being asleep, which would've been better for the pacing of this story as a whole, but I think y'all have waited long enough!
> 
> And also, I lied. This chapter did become bigger in length, more than I expected it would. But it is what it is. 
> 
> Actually this chapter would've come to y'all sooner but I was writing this chapter with the help of the site wordcount tools and I wanted the reading level to be at the same level as all the other chapters, so alot of things were added and reworded, and it somewhat strays away from the original draft of the chapter itself. Hopefully for the better, but that's for all y'all to decide!
> 
> And with all that out of the way, I hope you guys enjoy! :)
> 
> And as always, I gotta reiterate, that i'm not much of a writer, so if this chapter isn't all that great, then i'm truly sorry!

Time. Ever since the dead had taken over, time had become a motherfucking illusion. Negan didn't know what the exact time was, let alone the date, and he wondered if his perception of the whole damn space time continuum had changed now that he had no way of knowing either. Days felt like weeks, weeks felt like months, and he was most certainly frightened by the possibility that months would eventually have gone by since the world had decided to fuck itself into oblivion.

The only thing that he could keep track of these days, were, coincidentally, the days themselves. Each and every morning he'd take a piece of paper out of his pocket and tally up the days as they came to pass. But even that could be up to debate considering he only started tallying them up recently, and he had to guess how many days he had been in Kentucky prior to finding Rick. And that- that had taken a bit too much brain power than he would've liked.

But despite all that, Negan didn't know what day it was in regards to whether it was Tuesday or Wednesday, and he certainly couldn't remember how much time had passed since he had lost Lucille. And that was the thing. He couldn't even remember what day his wife had died on, and that broke his fucking heart.

If things were ever going to get back to normal, hypothetically speaking, he wouldn't even know how to label her gravestone. Sure, there'd be her name, and the day that she was born, of course. Just not the day that she had died. And you could definitely forget about an open casket funeral since her body would probably be dumped into a landfill or some shit like that to prevent further disease or infection, or whatever the hell caused the dead to rise up in the first place. But no, things were never going to get back to normal, and anyone who thought otherwise at this point was a fucking idiot.

And maybe a small part of him was, in fact, an idiot. Back before the world had ended, Negan had been pretty optimistic, albeit in his own way. But these past few weeks proved to him that humanity was filled to the brim with weak and selfish assholes, and almost all of his hope for the world had already been lost when Lucille had turned into one of those...things. 'Almost.' however, was the key word there. Even though his time at the hospital had made him realize how stupid the fuckers that had tagged along with him had been, how easily they had dropped like flies, and that absolutely no more tears were shed at their expense; Rick was here. Rick was that small ray of sunshine amongst the vast darkness that pervaded his view of the world, and all his hope laid with him as the man slept soundly in his bed like a goddamn baby.

But that hope for the better dwindled with time as it continued to pass, and the flowers that he had so lovingly filled the man's vase with, in true fashion, began to wilt. It was then that Negan started to lose hope. His breaking point, not far behind him. It was actually during dinner, funnily enough. As he was in the middle of eating a fucking Slim Jim of all things.

Rick hadn't made a peep that night, as per usual, and Negan had taken it upon himself to keep the rather one-sided conversation between them going like he always did. It wasn't like he was going to wake up just because he had fucking company. No, Rick needed to rest up, and Negan was more than happy to let him. Or at least, that's what he had thought.

"Y'know Rick," Negan began, chuckling as he bit and tore at the tube shaped meat, "Nothing beats the apocalypse like a damn fine piece of jerky. Thought i'd never see the day i'd be so fucking glad to eat one of these shit sticks, but here I am Rick, as I live and breathe!"

Negan then leaned forward to get a better look at Rick's face, because that was the polite fucking thing to do when you were speaking to someone, "Are you a jerky type of guy, Rick? I sure do hope so because we are gonna have a whole hell of a lot of that shit when we hit the ro-"

And that's when he had stopped talking altogether.

We.

That's what he had said.

We.

As if the fucker was actually going to wake up anytime soon, because let's be honest here, he sure as hell was fucking not. And who knew if they'd actually get along if he did? He didn't really know Rick, and Rick definitely didn't know shit about his stupid ass. For all he knew, Rick would leave him as soon as he woke up. They'd part ways in the blink of an eye, and Negan, Negan just didn't know how he'd be able to handle that type of rejection.

After all they've been through-

But that's when he had caught himself.

They hadn't been through shit together.

Not really.

All he's been doing these past few weeks is play housekeeper to a man who has been closer to death than any of the so-called survivors out there in the small hope that he might be able to rope Rick into navigating the apocalypse with him so that he wouldn't have to keep doing it alone.

It was fucking pathetic. And it...it just wasn't that healthy to begin with.

Maybe he should just leave, maybe that was for the best. He could just pack up right now and leave, and Rick wouldn't even know the difference. It would be like he hadn't even been there to begin with, regardless of his efforts to keep the man safe and sound. But those efforts would've been in vain anyway since there weren't any of those dead fucks roaming Rick's floor, now were they? They were all locked up in the cafeteria, away from harm's reach behind a pair of chained up doors. If he left, all his time with Rick would've been wasted, and he'd leave with absolutely nothing to gain from the experience other than guilt and an ever present concern for the man that he had so cruelly abandoned.

The very thought of leaving, among other things, had weighed on Negan's mind as the days continued to grow in numbers. Along with his mixed feelings about possibly leaving Rick, came the blatant similarities between Lucille and the man himself that became harder and harder to ignore. Sure, he had noticed things right off the bat, but Negan had overlooked them in favor of avoiding his own grief for his late wife altogether. And so, for that brief while, he had contented himself with dusting the furniture and wiping the counters; chores that he had done religiously back when the world had made sense. Back then, he had used his free time between coaching and visiting hours to prepare the house for his wife's eventual return from the hospital in the vain hope that she would fill those empty walls with her laughter once more. But, of course, that had never happened, and unbeknownst to him, Negan had entered a similar cycle that resembled those last few months with his ailing wife. It wasn't until he woke up one night, immediately reaching out for his wife's hand only to grab Rick's instead did everything seem to crash down on him. He was back with her, he had realized. He was back with Lucille.

Here his dumb ass was, stuck in another hospital room, sitting in a goddamn chair next to the bed of a person that he cared about as they lay asleep. Except this time the person in bed just so happened to be a complete stranger; not the woman that he had done wrong by time and time again. Not the woman whom he loved so fucking much, only for her to be taken away by that bitch cancer. Not Lucille.

Rick, fuck - Rick, he was just a fucking replacement for her. Brought to him by God or Satan, or whoever the hell felt like he should suffer just for the fucking fun of it. He should've stopped when he had held Rick's hand for the first time, or when he had continued to hold it every other night since then as he muttered desperate prayers under his breath to a God that he had never truly believed in. He should've stopped, but he didn't. He didn't, and now whenever he looked at Rick, all he could see was Lucille. And there was no doubt in his mind that Rick would undergo the same fate that she had. It was inevitable. Rick would die in his sleep, and Negan would grip his limp lifeless hand in his own, and he would plead for the man to come back, despite each and every fucking attempt at doing so being downright futile.

But let's say, Rick does finally decide to wake up, would he even be alive when he did? Or would he finally succumb to his wounds and die only to come back in death? There wasn't anybody else here this time to put him down if that were the case, and Negan would have to do the deed himself. He'd have to bash the ever loving fuck out of the skull of the man that he had come to grow so fond of. And that, that just didn't sit well with Negan. Not at all.

-

After a little more than a week, give or take, of Negan torturing himself with both his thoughts and his own rampant paranoia, he reluctantly made the decision to leave Rick. It's like he said, Rick would be fine whether he stayed or not, but still, leaving him would be one of the hardest things he'd ever have to do. He'd thought about taking Rick with him, countless times in fact. He'd thought about carrying him around in a glass coffin until he found the love of Rick's life, and make that cold-hearted, husband leaving bitch kiss him awake. But reality was fickle and he had no idea how he could separate Rick from his IV without accidentally killing him in the process. He'd just have to deal with abandoning Rick and get on with his life. For however long that fucking was.

Not being a complete monster, Negan spent the morning of his departure making Rick a survival guide for whenever he did decide to wake up. It took longer than he had hoped since most of the time was spent on him debating whether his decision to leave was right or wrong, but he had completed it nevertheless.

Walking up to the man's bed like he had done countless times before, Negan slapped the makeshift guide onto the table beside him. And then all that was left was to part ways with Rick. There were no words that could be said, no words that could truly express the conflict he felt inside that screamed at him to stay as his hands fidgeted, switching back and forth from wanting to reach out and touch Rick's face, to balling themselves up into fists until the knuckles turned white. And the worst part of all was that he couldn't even bring himself to actually say goodbye.

After taking one last look at Rick, Negan forced himself to tear his gaze away with a heavy heart. But as he was about to head out of the room for good, the unthinkable happened.

He heard something.

Something that he hasn't had the pleasure of hearing in weeks.

A voice.

"...That vase was something special. Fess up. Did you steal it from your Grandma Gene's house? I hope you left her that spoon collection."

It sounded dry, raspy, as if it hadn't been used in quite some time. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was the day that he finally lost his fucking mind. Lifting his head up, Negan slowly turned back around- only to immediately lose his grip on Lucille as she fell to the ground with a loud clang.

Holy motherfucking shit.

Rick was awake.

Rick motherfucking Grimes was actually awake, and a tear that he hardly noticed slid down his cheek in relief. Scrambling to pick Lucille up off the ground and onto the counter, Negan dropped his bag and rushed to Rick's side, immediately noticing how fucking blue the man's eyes were.

And boy, were they something. They were absolutely stunning, in fact; and he was pretty sure that if Rick were to look at him right now with those eyes of his, they would absolutely take his fucking breath away.

Shit.

He really shouldn't be thinking about how fucking pretty Rick is right now. Or how the man just became ten times more gorgeous now that he was up and moving, for that matter. He had more important things that he had to attend to. Like making sure he'd be able to ease Rick into the whole end of the world thing. Now that was important.

But regardless of where Negan's priorities should lie, a part of him just couldn't help but let his gaze linger. The most beautiful man on Earth was lying right in front of him, and like hell was he going to look away. But eventually he did, or more specifically; when Rick spoke once more, and single-handedly ruined the moment by mentioning another man's name.

Okay, he was just kidding about that last bit. But the very sound of Rick's voice did stop Negan from acting even more like the creepy fucker that he's probably coming across as, and now he was more focused on the situation at hand than anything else.

Shane. That was the name that had fell from the man's s lips. It was a name that had popped up quite frequently in the get well cards that sat on top of Rick's dresser, and Shane was apparently Rick's best friend by the look of it. But of course, Shane wasn't here. Some friend he was.

After a moment of Rick continuously blinking as he let his eyes adjust to his surroundings, and he had hastily ripped out his breathing tube from his nose, the man had finally gotten a good look at Negan and his eyes immediately widened to an almost comic degree. He stared at him, mouth agape in surprise for what seemed like forever. That is, until he went into a bit of a coughing fit, and the initial shock had subsided.

"Oh, hello there," Rick said as soon as he had stopped coughing, greeting him with a tired smile that Negan couldn't help but find adorable. But even though he had smiled at him, he could tell that the other man was probably confused as to why he was there in the first place.

"Do I know you?"

'Now that is a valid question,' Negan thought, and it took him a second to actually respond because he was still in a state of awe over the fact that the man before him was not only awake, but was actually speaking to him, after all this time.

"No," Negan managed to let out, "You don't, actually."

"Oh."

Rick frowned, brows furrowed in confusion as he looked away briefly only to glance back up at him, giving him a once over as he eyed Negan warily.

"Are you a doctor?"

"No."

"A nurse?"

"You wish."

"A...long lost family relative?"

Negan chuckled, "We're not related."

"Um," Rick began, and was that a fucking giggle that he heard? "Then is this a 'While You Were Sleeping' situation where instead of falling in love with my brother you've stayed loyal to me this whole time without me knowing you exist and have been taking advantage of me while I was unconscious?"

That actually took Negan by surprise as he froze, finger pointing in mid-air as he was just about to tell Rick who he was before he was so rudely interrupted. But after the shock had worn off, he laughed wholeheartedly. Rick was a riot. However, as soon as he sensed how uncomfortable Rick had become at his abrupt fit of hilarity, he had moved to control himself. Although, he could tell that he still had a huge grin on his face. And that he probably came off as even more of an absolute fucking weirdo than he did already. So much for first impressions.

"No, no, and absolutely no! How do you even-never mind that! The name's Negan, and you, my friend, have been asleep for quite some time, now haven't you?"

"Huh, Negan...," Rick repeated, letting the name roll off his tongue. Negan found it endearing, but he knew that moments like these were only stalling the inevitable.

"It's mighty nice to meet you, Negan," the man smiled, eyes shining with a welcoming warmth that took Negan aback by the sheer friendliness of it. "I'm Rick, Rick Grimes."

The last part, sadly, was emphasized by another cough, which frustrated Rick quite a bit as his lips pursed in annoyance, and he tried once more to sit up on the bed, for which he had finally succeeded in doing. And then, for whatever reason, the man thought that he was invincible, and he promptly moved to stand up, almost toppling over as he tried to take his very first step. 'Almost,' being the man's saving grace, since Negan had already made his way around the bed when Rick had been in the middle of pushing himself off of it, and had caught the man before he could hit the ground. With Rick leaning against his chest for support, Negan brought him back onto the bed with a sigh.

"Baby steps, Rick. Baby steps," Negan chided, placing his hands on his hips like a parent would when their child was doing something that they clearly wasn't supposed to, "Now what do you need?"

Rick swallowed, trying to gather enough saliva in his throat to speak, "Uh...water. I could really use a drink of water right about now."

"Your wish is my command," Negan bellowed enthusiastically as he moved to grab his bottle from where it was attached to his bag on the ground. He would've gotten Rick a cup, but the only other cup in the room was from the tray of food that had been sitting on the dresser even before he had arrived at the hospital, and like hell was he going to risk Rick getting sick.

Coming back to the bed, Negan handed Rick the bottle, who in return gave him a strange look, but said nothing of it as he gulped down the liquid that was inside.

"Thanks," Rick uttered, clearly grateful, as he smiled once more. And yep, he probably would never get tired of those smiles. Not one bit.

But all good things had to come to an end, as Rick licked his lips, looking up at Negan once more with those big blue eyes of his as he asked yet another question.

"Do you know what time it is?"

Ah, there it was. The moment he had been dreading. The truth.

Sighing, Negan walked back to his chair and brought his hands to rest on the head as he leaned against it. "I'm gonna be completely honest with you Rick. I really don't fucking know, and-"

"Don't you have a pho-"

"Nope."

"...Okay then."

Negan took another deep breath as he continued where he had left off, "As I was saying, I don't know the time, and I don't know what the actual date is, so don't bother asking. But with all that being said, there's a very good reason for me not knowing shit. Besides being stupid, because I can fucking assure you, Rick, I sure as fuck am not."

Rick gives him an incredulous look, arms now folded as he readied himself for the news that Negan was no doubt about to give him. "Well, spit it out then."

"I don't know how to really tell you this...but while you were asleep, the whole world went to fucking shit."

The other man's eyes widened in even more confusion, "What do you mean by that?

"What I mean is, God fucking spun a wheel of potential apocalypse scenarios, and it just so happened to land on one of the worst possible things imaginable. The dead coming back to fucking life."

Negan then looked down to gauge Rick's reaction, only for the other man to give him _the look_. Rick motherfucking Grimes was giving him the 'that's so funny, and I obviously don't believe you' look.

"Th-That's pretty funny Negan," Rick began with a weak, totally not forced chuckle. If he hadn't seemed like a total whackjob before, he sure as hell was one now. "But seriously," Rick continued, "Do you have any idea where the doctor is? Surely he should've gotten the alert that i'm awake by now, and oh god, wait til Lori and Carl hear, won't they be surprised?!" Rick babbled excitedly, trailing off with even more sentimental bullshit that just made the news even worse for both him and Rick.

God, he had three weeks to prepare for this shit. It was obviously Rick's fault, his pretty face being so goddamn distracting. Fuck, he should've just left his pretty ass when he had the chance, have him find out what had happened to the world by himself. The responsibility of having to tell the man that the world was overrun by a bunch of undead pieces of shit, and that his family was most likely dead, was just way too much for him to handle.

"They left you," Negan uttered sternly, interrupting Rick as he had been in the middle of telling him how excited he was to see his family again, "There are no doctors, no more nurses, and it's obvious that your wife and your son had left you here to fend for yourself."

Rick looked at him in disbelief. "You're overexaggerating, Negan. They're all probably pretty busy, and I don't blame them."

Negan pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, his patience wearing thin by every second and by every word that contradicted what he was trying to tell the now conscious man before him. "Rick, take a look at the goddamn picture! Things have changed." He gestures to the room with a wave of his hand, making sure that the man took it all in. From the dust that showered the room no matter how hard he had tried to get rid of it, to the clock whose hands never moved, and to the dried up petals that laid scattered across Rick's bedside table. All signs that showed that time had clearly passed, and that no one had come to tidy things up while he was stuck in limbo. And by the look of it, Rick certainly did get the picture, as the light in Rick's eyes dimmed, and his excitement at being awake was replaced with resignation.

"How long?" Rick finally asked after he had taken a moment to take in the state of the room as it was.

"A little more than a month, most likely. I've only been here for about three weeks myself, give or take."

"Here?" Rick repeated, and Negan let out another sigh.

"Yeah, shit for brains, i've been bunking here for quite some time. Was the safest place I could fucking think of to-"

"Hide from all the dead people?"

"Yeah...that."

Rick shook his head, gazing absentmindedly at the sheets beneath him. The air between them had become awkward as hell, as Rick refused to speak, lost in thought. He knew that the guy was hankering to ask more questions with the way that he kept giving him sideways glances when he thought he wasn't looking, but Negan assumed that when Rick was ready to take in the reality of the situation, than he would speak. And he assumed right.

After a few minutes of silence, Negan was graced with Rick's voice once more. "Listen, Negan," Rick started, voice like gravel as it was filled with a sense of sorrow, "I can believe a lot of things. I can believe that the hospital had forgotten me somehow. I-I can somewhat believe that my family and my friends would all leave me for God knows what. But what you're saying, is pretty hard to believe all things considered."

Negan shrugged his shoulders, and met Rick's eyes with his own, "Then let me show you."

Rick bit his lip, squinting at particularly nothing as the gears in his head turned as he thought about his answer. And then, he looked back up, and although his eyes were filled with a mixture of both confusion and a certain kind of sadness, he still said the next thing that would come out of his mouth like a dare.

"Alright, Negan. Make me a believer then."

And there it was. The very look in the man's eyes made his heart skip a beat, and he could've sworn that he had felt something that was only reserved for his late wife. And that was something special. Although he was not going to take any pride in showing Rick the world as it was, he could already tell that the man would be determined enough to get through it no matter what.

"Gladly," Negan replied with a big grin, "But before we do anything else, we gotta take all those fucking needles and shit out of you first."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably go in and edit this chapter some more, as well as some of the earlier chapters, but that can wait til tomorrow. Or later today, since it's 4 AM and it already is tomorrow technically. But whatevs. c:
> 
> Get ready for a retelling of the very first episode y'all! Cuz it's gonna happen. After I rewatch the first episode several times, and reread the very first issue of the comic to get me into the writing mood lol


	6. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGGGGHHHH I'M SO SORRY FOR ANOTHER LATE UPDATE!!! I THOUGHT THIS TIME AROUND WOULD BE EASY, BUT I WAS DEAD WRONG D:
> 
> ...Anyways, how're y'all?? I hope you guys are doing good, and I just wanted to take this time to thank you guys again for all those awesome comments you guys left last time, as well as all the kudos and bookmarks that you've given this here fic. I never expected this fic to get this much attention, and i'm just so happy that you guys are with me on this lil journey of mine (and that you guys are bearing with my horrible updating ways) c:
> 
> So yeah, this is probably the last time I promise to myself that i'll get chapters done in less than a month, they'll just pop up when they decide they want to pop up. And I just gotta warn y'all, this chapter is a long one! 
> 
> (I don't know what's with me and the word count, first they're manageable 1k chapters, the next they're 3k, and then it's back to 1k, and then all of a sudden it's 4k, and now it's 6k like, what the heck me???) (I also edited some of the earlier chapters, but don't worry, there aren't any big changes!!) (And on a side-note, why the heck do we have to wait so long for Negan to get another episode, like, have him and Gabes just been chilling this whole time??)
> 
> But with all that out of the way, I hope you guys enjoy! :)
> 
> And as always, I gotta reiterate, that i'm not much of a writer, so if this chapter isn't all that great, then i'm truly sorry!

After separating Rick from his IV, the very thing that had kept the guy alive for so fucking long, along with the rest of the shit that had connected him to the now useless machines that surrounded him, Negan helped the man to his feet. He held him close, had his arm looped around his waist as Rick held onto his hand, gripping it tight as he officially made his very first steps onto the dusty tiles that decorated the hospital floor. Rick stumbled at first, which was a given. But even though his legs had repeatedly given out due to their lack of use, Rick had taken it in stride and simply picked up where he left off each and every time until he refused to lean on Negan any longer, and Negan couldn't have been more fucking proud of the son of a bitch. As he let the other man get used to walking on his own, Negan took this time to pick his bag up off the ground, securing the straps around his shoulders as he held Lucille in his grip once more.

"Now that's better," Negan muttered under his breath, smiling at the bat as he swung her around a bit out of habit. However his revelry at this was cut short as reality settled in when he noticed that Rick's footsteps were becoming more and more faint as they somehow rapidly withdrew from earshot by the second.

Turning to face the door with baited breath and totally not fucking prepared for the consequences of Rick not being where he should be, Negan was relieved to see that Rick had just stopped right outside the room, still within his line of sight. The man was stock still, and from what he could see of his face he could tell that he was in a state of shock as he simply gaped at how much of a wreck the place was. Which was kinda funny since the hallway hardly made up the majority of how fucked the rest of the building was, let alone how fucked up the world was for that matter, and if Rick was acting like this just from the seeing the hallway alone, he'd probably be like this for the rest of the goddamn day if he wasn't careful.

"Hey, Rick," Negan called out.

But the man didn't respond.

"Earth to Rick," he called out once more, this time letting his voice get even louder by accentuating the man's name so that he could get his attention. And yet, Rick still did not budge. At least, not right away that is. As Negan was smack dab in the middle of calling him a brain dead shitbag, he noticed that Rick was in the middle of rolling his shoulders back, and his back was now a little bit straighter than it had been before as he turned back around, eyes squeezed shut as the man than shook his head like a dog with fleas. When Rick finally opened his eyes, they squinted in his direction as if he were the blazing sun and his brows were furrowed in that way which had already become the trademark look of goddamn fucking confusion for the poor guy.

"Uhm...Yes, Negan?" Rick murmured, clearing his throat once more as if the words that came out of his mouth weren't even his to begin with. And that, in of itself, worried Negan even more than he had been already.

Trying to alleviate the air of the overt seriousness of their current situation for one measly moment, Negan noticed that Rick still barely had any clothes on, and if this was a different time and place he would've been all fucking for it, but it wasn't and so Rick's half-nakedness simply would not fly.

"You sure you want to go out there wearing that, Rick?" He asked with a smirk, arms crossed as he looked at the other man expectantly. Rick had raised a brow at the question, clearly about to ask what he meant by it when he gets the right mind to look down at himself and he instantly lets out a not so silent 'oh' in realization, and hurriedly makes his way back into the room with a look of mild embarrassment that had brought a bit of color into the clammy pale of his cheeks. And that only made Negan want to tease the man even more.

"I mean, if that's what you want to wear, than that's fine with me. I'm not gonna fucking stop ya. I ain't your fucking babysitter," Negan continued with a chuckle, "But know this, once we leave this shit hole, we are not, under any circumstances, coming back to get your shit." He emphasizes that last point by pointing Lucille at Rick, but instead of getting some kind of jab or even a simple roll of the eyes followed by the other man saying "Yes sir, Negan sir," in a mocking tone, Rick has already reverted back into his previous state of staring blankly at absolutely nothing rather than his precious bat; which was just plain rude if you asked him, but he, out of the graciousness of his heart, let it slide for the mean time.

However Rick's lack of voice was rather troubling to say the least, and the sorry ass response he did eventually get by way of the lackluster nod of the head that the man had given him was certainly not doing them any favors in the slightest. He needed to make sure that Rick was with him; that they were on the same goddamn level. He wouldn't be able to deal with the guy if he kept escaping into his head every chance he got.

Blocking Rick's way to the dresser before he could do anything else on autopilot, Negan lightly grasped his face with both of his hands, forcing him to look up so that he had a semblance of the man's full attention. With the tone of his voice gentle yet firm, he began to speak to Rick, hoping that he'd be able to get through to his sorry ass one way or another.

"Do I make myself clear, Rick? You get the shit that you need, and then we can go on our merry way. Can you comprehend?"

Negan drawed out his last question purposefully slow as he enunciated each word with a small pause in between, observing Rick's eyes as he reached the end with a smile when he saw them glimmer with a sense of understanding. However, that smile of relief almost turned upside down when Rick answered with yet another nod of his head until it seemed like the man had caught himself midway in the act as he then took a deep breath, and spoke; picking and choosing his words carefully as they tumbled out of his mouth, "Yeah - I mean, yes. I can," he stammered, "I'm sorry, i'm just a bit...disoriented, is all." Rick then gave him an apologetic look, like his mere existence was an inconvenience to him, and Negan had to hold back from reassuring the poor guy that he was, in fact, the exact opposite; because he was sure that Rick was probably not in the mood to hear a bunch of sappy shit at the moment, from a stranger, no less.

"It's fine, I completely understand," Negan said softly, trying to put the other man at ease, "Just do me a favor and put on some real clothes. I know the whole hospital getup would make for such a badass fashion statement in these trying times, but i'd rather you be comfortable than running around in your underwear. Unless you're into that. I'm not one to judge."

Rick scoffed, but there was no ill will behind it as a victorious, albeit small, smile emerged from the troubled frown that he had been sporting, and Negan couldn't help but feel his own smile grow even wider at the development; as well as the fact that Rick, as it turned out, was actually shorter than him, which did wonders for his massive ego. 

Stepping away so that Rick could look through his things, Negan made himself comfortable by leaning against the bathroom door and amused himself by watching Rick as his hospital gown swayed back and forth and the curls on the top of his head slightly bounced with every move that the man made. But his amusement was soon lost when Rick had caught sight of the cards that had been left behind for him, and the mood shifted into something rather somber in an instant.

Glancing at the folded up pieces of paper, Rick had paused, letting the shirt that he had held in his hands go as he moved to pick one of them up. Gingerly caressing the edges of the card, Rick went ahead and opened it, looking down upon it with a look of fondness that was left unspoken as he then read what was inscribed, and immediately reached for another as soon as he was done with it. Seeing that Rick was probably going to go through all the cards individually, Negan took this as his cue to leave the room so that he didn't have to feel even more sorry for the poor fuck than he did already. Muttering some half-assed excuse about wanting to give him some privacy and all that shit on the way out, Negan quickly made his exit. But before the door to the room had completely shut, he could hear that Rick had responded in the form of a hum. It had sounded broken, choked off like the man was already at the brink of tears; like he had just accepted the fact that everyone he ever knew had left him behind. And this, this was only the beginning of it.

Groaning into his hands in a fit of frustration, Negan began to pace from one end of the hall to the other as he used this time to think, seeing that he wouldn't have the chance once Rick walked out.

He knows that Rick doesn't believe half the fucking shit that he told him, and the fact that he somewhat trusts him now, speaks a whole hell of a lot. So what will happen when he finally does believe him? How worse off will he be once he realizes that everything that he had fucking told him was God's honest truth? Maybe he misjudged him. Maybe Rick wouldn't be able to handle life as it is now. Maybe Rick will just go batshit crazy and try and do something that he'll regret. Like letting one of those dead fuckers bite him on purpose. And then poof, that'll be the end of Rick. He died like he lived, which meant, he really didn't, as far as Negan's concerned, seeing as he's only known the guy for such a short amount of time, and for the majority of that time Rick had spent it sleeping.

And then a rather depressing thought hit him: what if Rick had gotten himself shot on purpose? What if Rick had decided that enough was enough, and that he was going to die on that fateful day during the shootout. He never did take account of what Rick's life could've been like before he went into a coma. Maybe he had found out that his wife wasn't in love with him anymore, or that maybe they weren't even in love to begin with, and that kid of theirs was just the result of them being too stupid and dumb to wear a condom when they fucked. Or maybe it wasn't even like that at all. Maybe Rick had realized that his life was just too perfect, and that he just couldn't live up to the expectation of being the man who had everything.

Like he's told himself time and time again, he doesn't know Rick. He doesn't know how he'll react to anything that's thrust upon him, and really the man's behavior as of right now, is worrying him more and more by the second. But maybe he was the one that was being crazy. Sure his people skills were shitty to begin with, and not having been in contact with said people in quite some time has made them even worse, so maybe he's just looking at this all wrong. Maybe Rick's just going through the motions, and he should just let it be. Rick just needs some time to let his feelings take its course, and if, for whatever reason, he needs extra consolation, then he'll swoop right in and take a hold of the situation.

Either way, he knows that this was going to be a long and stressful day. For the both of them. And while Negan would like to argue on his own behalf, he knows pretty damn well that the sorry shit on the other side of the door was clearly the winner, and he did not envy him in the slightest for the prize that he's already been receiving; a fuck ton of good ol' pain. The very gift that just keeps on fucking giving.

With what would've taken, at the very least, three minutes to get himself dressed and out the door, Rick had taken what he assumed to be twenty before he finally opened the door. The man now wore a simple t-shirt and some jeans, and both his face and the hair on the top of his head were somewhat damp; likely from putting his head in the sink like he had when he had first discovered the damn thing. But other than that, it seemed like Rick didn't want to take anything else with him, save for his badge which he had hooked onto the seam of his belt.

"We should get going," Rick muttered, mouth fixed into a grim line. His eyes looked somewhat red, like he had been crying, but he was not about to comment on it. If Rick was anything like him, he'd probably sock him in the jaw if he tried to mention it, and besides, they had to get a move on whether Rick was really ready or not.

"Yeah, alright, Rick. Whatever you say," Negan replied, watching the other man as he stepped out into the hallway. It felt like an end of an era when Rick had left the room; that time spent sitting next to him as he slept the days away from a coma that he had never thought the man would ever wake up from was gone now, and now it was time to move onto something new. He chanced a glance at the room one last time, for he probably would never see it again for as long as he lived; and then he grinned, walking off with Rick as they began to make their way towards the exit. It's like they say: out with the fucking old, and in with the fucking new.

As they made their way to the end of another hall, Negan observed Rick from the corner of his eye as he continued to gawk at the state of the building, his eyes wide in utter disbelief as he scanned the corridor with the utmost unease.

"What happened here?" Rick asked after a few minutes had gone by in utter silence, gasping in horror as he took notice of the dried up blood on the walls.

"I'm not entirely sure," Negan drawled, "Seeing as I wasn't here when the whole place went to shit, but considering the fucking military had set up shop right next door, I think I can manage a guess. You already saw the blood, that I know for certain, but did you notice the bullet holes on the walls? Well I have a feeling that the military did more than protect and serve while they were here. I think they were sent here to kill everyone off in case they got bit or some shit. Wouldn't any want more of those dead fucks running around than they needed to. Though how they didn't find your bedridden ass, I have no fucking idea."

"Bit?"

"Yeah, bit," he reiterated. "I know you don't really believe jackshit about the whole dead people coming back to life thing at the moment, but that's how this whole thing works. If one of those dead piece of shits so much as scratch you, you're bound to end up just like them sooner or later."

Rick's brows had furrowed at this, and just like that, the man had gone back to looking at him like he was fucking crazy. Normally, Negan would've told him off for doing just that, but he was more than willing to give Rick a pass. He'd see the shit for himself soon enough.

At an attempt to keep the conversation going, Negan watched as Rick opened that pretty little mouth of his once more only to spill out some bullshit, which Negan had swiftly put an end to.

"Well, surely the military would've-"

"They didn't. Whatever you were just about to fucking say, I completely and utterly doubt it. The military did not have a handle on the situation, not by a fucking long shot. In fact, I think they never will if things keep going the way they are, so I suggest you put a sock in it before you say something else that you don't understand."

And that's when he had noticed that Rick was no longer walking beside him, and his heart skipped another goddamn beat. And not in the good way. God fucking dammit, he was being too fucking harsh on Rick, wasn't he? He didn't mean to snap at the poor guy like that, he really didn't. It just slipped out, and now he felt like a fucking asshole.

Turning around with an apology ready on his lips, Negan immediately came to the conclusion that Rick wasn't mad at him at all. In fact, he wasn't even paying attention to him. The man was frozen, transfixed; eyes unwavering as he stared at whatever the hell was beyond the glass panel of the door that he was currently looking through. His face was drained of all color, and his eyes were wide with pure and utter terror. It was like he couldn't comprehend what he was seeing, and when he took a peek over Rick's shoulder to see what all the fuss was about, his suspicions were confirmed.

Under the flickering light that lit up the corridor on the other side of the door was the body of an obviously dead woman that was laid out across the floor in all its horrific glory. But for a corpse in this day and age, it didn't look half bad, he had to admit. It hadn't quite fully decomposed yet, and the woman, most likely a nurse, had obviously been a looker when she had been alive thanks to her face being still intact. However, the same could not be said about the rest of her body. Oh no, those dead fuckers had really went to town on her. Most of her skin had been eaten off besides the sliver that he saw near where her waist should be, while the rest of her from the neck down was a combination of meat and bone drenched in thick almost brown blood. To complete the picture, were her innards that stuck out, intestines pooling by her side next to her degloved arm that revealed the muscly flesh underneath, slick and wrinkled, and none too pretty to look at.

The very scene in front of him doesn't phase him however, as he's already seen his fair share of bodies. Enough so, that he's become somewhat immune to the horror that they usually inflict. And compared to them, he'd say that she was the least of their worries. After all, it didn't seem like she was going to be getting up any time soon. But of course, this was himself that he was talking about, and the same could not be said for poor Rick who was currently trembling in fear right in front of him.

Rick steps back, backing into his chest, and it seems like he's trying to find his words as he can hear the tiny little sounds that he makes, but in the end he ends up stuttering out of sheer fright.

"Sh-She's-"

"Dead? Yeah, she is."

He hears Rick inhale, and he thinks that he's about to say something, but he gets nothing as the shorter man promptly pushes past him, and continues to make his way down the hall, and all Negan can do is keep up with the man's pace. They don't talk, as Rick wasn't really in the right set of mind to talk, until they make it to the end of the hall only to be met with the doors to the cafeteria. Rick gasps, even more visibly upset by what's in front of him as the undead assholes on the other side of the double doors begin to groan and shove their disgusting decaying fingers through the crack in between. But this time around they seemed far more aggressive now that Rick was here, as the doors shook with the weight of the bodies that thrashed against them. But who could blame them? Negan was already quite the tease since he had been coming and going through this specific area ever since he made that fateful decision to stay in the hospital all those weeks ago, and now that Rick was here, his very presence could easily be chalked up to being fresh meat, and those shits were just dying to get their fill.

The very insinuation that what exactly moved behind those doors being clear cut evidence of what Negan had been telling him all along turns Rick from understandably terrified to scared shitless in mere seconds, as he stumbles back and automatically runs towards the elevator doors, pushing the buttons haphazardly to no avail.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit," Rick repeated over and over, fists banging on the doors in an act of desperation. Negan, on the other hand, simply strolls on in and yanks the frantic man up by his collar.

"I know you're in fight or flight mode Rick, but be rest assured that those things cannot get you. They are not chasing after us. So stand still while I get my lighter, alright?"

Negan tried to be reassuring, he really did, but it was hard considering Rick seemed to be in and out of it half the fucking time as, yet again, the only answer he gets is Rick staring up at him with wild eyes and his heart beating so loudly that even he can hear it. With a sigh, Negan digs out his lighter from the far reaches of his pocket, and pushes open the exit door to reveal the stairs, much to Rick's relief. The smell that wafts from them is a whole other story as Rick immediately gags from the smell, and he guesses that just like his nonchalant attitude towards seeing a dead body, he's just too used to the smell of death to really be affected by the smell anymore. Leading them through the threshold, Negan flicks the lighter on just as the door is about to close, encapsulating them in darkness, with only enough light to illuminate them both as they slowly descend down the stairs. Negan, more so, so that he can make sure that Rick doesn't topple down the steps with his wobbly legs, as the other man rests one hand on his shoulder and the other on the wall for support.

Eventually, they do reach the bottom in one piece, and the exit is right outside the door, just waiting to be opened. But before he makes a move to open it, Negan chances a glance down at Rick, and besides him hacking up a storm from the rancid stench of the stairwell, he is absolutely brimming with this nervous kind of energy that just doesn't sit well with him. So, with a hand on the guy's arm, Negan locks eyes with Rick's, those big blue eyes of his that, tried as they might, to hide all of the fear and confusion that he felt from the rest of his face at an attempt at being stoic; which he would have found fucking adorable, had, again, the situation been any different.

"Now I know that what you've already seen has been horrible enough," Negan says, stating the obvious, "But I have to tell you that it only gets much worse from here on out, and what I need to know is that you'll be able to fucking do as I say, because I cannot guarantee that you'll make it out alive if you don't do exactly what I say, when I say it. So, Rick," he leads on, emphasizing his question by sliding his hand up to the man's shoulder, "Are you going to be cooperative? Can I trust you to keep somewhat of a level head while we're out there, because if you still need time, we can march back up those stairs and we can make time. The choice is all yours."

He can see that Rick is considering all this, as his eyes flit to and fro from his face towards the door as a vein of uncertainty takes a hold of him. But after a few seconds, he looks up at him once more with that determined look back on his face, and motions for the door.

"Yeah, you can definitely count on me," Rick says with the utmost conviction.

"Alright then."

Negan grins in response, and the lighter clicks shut, surrounding them in darkness before he pushes open the door and the light immediately floods in. The light is blinding when they step out onto the platform, but it's even worse on Rick as he struggles to adjust to the intense rays as they barrel down on him in an almost cruel fashion. Negan pats him on the back in a somewhat comforting manner, waiting to see Rick's reaction to the next stage of his introduction to the apocalypse, and once Rick lowers his arm from where he had raised it above his head to block out the all encompassing light, his breath gets caught and he almost chokes. Rick looks on in absolute disgust as he scans the area, shaking at the sight of the numerous bodies that are strewn across the loading bay. It's not a pretty picture to swallow, and it's definitely not quite an easy thing to process by all means, but it's something that Rick will just have to get fucking used to whether he likes it or not. Gently nudging Rick forward so that the other doesn't get cold feet, the two of them make their way down the steps and through the aisle of bodies so that they can get to the other side.

He can tell that the smell is overwhelming to Rick, as the man's eyes become watery, and he's been making a damn show out of holding his breath which gets a chuckle out of him. But at the same time, Rick's got a look on his face that reminds him of a puppy that's been kicked one too many times, and Negan automatically feels horrible for it. Locking his arm with one of Rick's, he practically drags the man away from the makeshift graveyard so that they can get to the road quicker and so Rick can breathe much more easier. When they hit asphalt, Rick immediately tears himself away from his hold, gasping as he drinks in the air, before he falls to his knees and dry heaves until his body is satisfied. Negan's about to kneel down and ask Rick the rather senseless question of 'are you okay,' when clearly the man is not, but before he can do so, Rick scrambles up the hill and all he can do is follow. And follow he does.

-

After Negan lets Rick examine the abandoned army base for himself, Rick tells him that he needs to get back home, and so they make their way back down the hill and back onto the road with Rick leading the way. Negan had made several trips using this specific road prior to today, but he had never strayed too far from the hospital. But had he, he would've ended up in Rick's cushy little neighborhood in the suburbs, as he soon found out. The place looked normal. Empty, but normal. You would be sorely mistaken if you thought people actually lived here after all the shit that's gone down, but besides some of the yards being filled with random pieces of furniture and junk, it looked like the dead hadn't even touched the place. But he knew better.

They hadn't seen any of those fucking shitheads on the way down, and their continued absence was suspect, as the air fell into the eerie silence of the unknown. Not knowing where those shits were did nothing to calm his nerves, and the more he went on without seeing one brought him more and more on edge. It wasn't until several minutes later that he had let up, when Rick, of all people, had spotted one.

They had been walking down the street, when all of a sudden Rick tilts his head to the side and ventures off into the grass, briskly stepping towards whatever the hell had just caught his eye. Rick immediately freezes in place, and Negan makes his way over to him only to come face to face with the top half of some woman lying in the dirt. She's dead, obviously, looking much worse off than the body that they had found in the hospital due to her severely decomposed state and the fact that her legs were nowhere in sight. She notices them staring, or rather, she senses it, as she begins to move, trying to crawl towards them with only the use of her arms. She makes strange clicking noises as she does this, hissing and growling as her body inches closer and closer to them, and Rick understandably stumbles back in astonishment, as this is officially his first time seeing one of these things up close and personal. But just when he's about to raise Lucille over his head and finish the thing off for good, he is stopped by a hand on his chest.

"Wait," Negan hears Rick say all of a sudden, "Wait, please. It-It's not hurting anyone." Rick's voice is hoarse as he says this, and his eyes are almost filled to the brim with tears as he looks down at it with not a look of disdain, but with a look of goddamn pity, as he holds a hand up to his mouth in shock, and Negan was not about to be the one to deny him of his request. Several minutes pass before he feels Rick's hand on his shoulder and he tells him that they can go, and so he just leaves the dead thing as it is, seeing as it can't do much harm in its current state.

They continue to aimlessly wander the streets, as Rick takes it all in as they pass his neighbors houses one by one, until they reach a particular stretch of land that the man recognizes as he starts to run without provocation. This is a bitch for Negan since he doesn't know what lies ahead for them, and Rick clearly broke his fucking promise about keeping together at all times, but when he sees the guy enter a specific house and he starts yelling what he presumes to be his wife and his son's names, he's not as pissed as he is worried for Rick's safety as he barrels in after the sorry bastard.

Entering the house, he notices that it's pretty nice, all in all. It's nothing fancy, but its nothing too shabby either. It's a home, is what it is. It looks lived in, and it has a sort of charm to it. But what's missing are the photos and any other personal affects; the things that truly sell that a family lives here, or, correction, used to live here. He looks for Rick, hearing the man shout in the distance followed by the man's hurried footsteps, as he looks from room to room. He's about to call out his name, when he enters what looks to be the living room only to be met with the sight of Rick's back to him. And that's when he knows that Rick has finally realized that his family had really left. Whether or not they're dead, or they're still alive somehow, Rick's family is gone, and all the man is left with are the fractured remnants of what had been, and all Negan can do is watch as Rick gradually falls apart right in front of him.

There was a part of him that wanted so badly to hold the man before him and make the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes disappear, but the other half told him that Rick wasn't some fucking kid; he was a grown ass man, and that all he needed was silence and a bit of reflection to calm his nerves. And so all he can do is observe from afar, as Rick's shoulders begin to shake, and the man slowly falls to his knees and outright sobs as he curls in on himself. If Negan hadn't cared so much, he would've immediately told Rick, "I told you so," right off the bat, and be the insensitive asshole that everyone used to label him as, but as it turns out, he does care for the poor bastard, and so anything that he could say now to brighten the mood would be completely lost on Rick as he cries out 'Lori' and 'Carl simultaneously, clutching at the floor in his anguish.

"They're really gone. They're-" He hears Rick begin to say after a while, but the tremble in his voice chokes him up and he sighs.

"No," Rick utters, hands balled up in fists in defiance, "This isn't real. None of this is real. I'm just - i'm just dreaming. That's it! I'll wake up, and everything will be back to normal."

But even Rick couldn't even convince himself of this, as he turned to face Negan with a crazed look in his eyes, "Right, Negan?"

Negan winced at the utter desperation on Rick's face, swallowing the lump in his throat as he tried to muster as much sympathy into one look as he could as he answered the question with the most apologetic eyes that he could pull off and a solemn shake of his head. But Rick was not having it.

"No!" The man shouted, "No. You're wrong." And with one glance at his own hands, Rick starts to slap himself in the face in a sad attempt to wake himself up.

"Jesus fuck, Rick!" Negan yells, quickly making his way towards the hysterical man, and kneeling on the ground as he holds the man's hands at bay. Rick cries out and tries to wriggle his hands free from his grip, but he knows, at this very moment, that he is stronger than Rick, and so he has no problems with keeping him still.

"This can't be real..." Rick trailed off, the very tone of his voice pleading at him to tell him that he was right, as tears continue to stream down his gorgeous face, eyes red and lashes wet, and Negan is at a loss for words. Rick's pain is so palpable that he can feel it searing through his very core and it burns, like an echo to what he had felt when Lucille had closed her eyes for the very last time. It hurts - It hurts so fucking much, and he has to blink the beginnings of tears away from his very own eyes, fruitlessly shaking his head to rid himself of the all too familiar feeling, as he lets out a breath that he didn't even know that he had been holding in the first place.

"This is real. I'm sorry Rick, but this is all real."

Their eyes meet once more, and Negan brings the man's captive right hand to his face, placing it on his cheek for emphasis, "Do you see?"

Rick huffs, his bottom lip trembling as his shaking fingers allow themselves to purposefully touch Negan's cheek of their own accord. And the sound that Rick makes when he does this is heartwrenching as a whine wrenches itself free from his throat, and he immediately looks away, face folding in on itself, as he starts to hyperventilate and cry to the fullest extent.

"I can't, I can't-" Rick repeats over and over again, a heartbroken mantra that becomes even worse as his voice becomes increasingly hoarse with anguish. He grasps at his shirt, fingers digging into the cloth as he slumps his head against Negan's chest, and Negan wraps his arms around him and repeats his very own mantra of "Yes, you can," softly into his ear. He didn't know how Rick would respond to him trying to comfort him in this way, but Rick continues to cry and sob against him, and all Negan can do is hold him through it.

And so, there they sat. Knelt down onto the ground together, in an empty house, surrounded by the buzz of the insects against the summer breeze, as the air is filled with something that he could only describe as the feeling of perpetual sadness. After a while, as the minutes began to feel like hours, Rick's weeping subsides, and the man picks his head up off his shoulder. His eyes are still a bit red, but no longer wet as he wipes the tears away, and his stare is all but blank as he pulls away from Negan's hold with a tired laugh.

"You were right," Rick utters hopelessly with a sigh. And then he gives him what might possibly be the saddest smile he's ever seen.

"I believe you now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (chapter will be edited sometime later after I get some shut eye, been working on this for like 8 hours, even tho it doesn't really feel like it~)
> 
> So yeah, Morgan and Duane make their introduction next chapter...so there's that to look forward to...I guess lol  
> Hopefully the chapter won't be as long as this monster was, but I can't make any promises ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> But with that being said, i'm looking for some peeps that post/reblog some TWD stuff on tumblr since there's a major lack of it on my dash at the moment, so if anyone wants to offer up their blogs for me to follow, i'd be more than happy to follow y'all!!  
> Also it'd help me focus on writing this since I get distracted by my other fandoms so easily (such as, when I was trying to finish this chapter the other day, but then I started thinking about Thor Ragnarok, and I was all like 'omg I just gotta write some grandmaster/loki fics :D')


	7. Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! I come to you guys about a month later to bring you another long ass chapter! Yeah, I have no sense of pace when it comes to individual chapters, so i'm sorry to those who were hoping I was going to come to my senses and give you guys a manageable 1k chapter outta me. That had been my dream all those months ago when I started writing this fic...but now, here we are. This chap's about the same length as the previous one, if not a bit longer. So there's your warning lol 
> 
> Don't know when the next chapter is going to go up, but if things go good you'll probably get the next chapter in a month or less. If not, well it's because I got in trouble or something. Either way, i'm so happy that y'all are still reading this fic despite the long updates, and I just found out about the symbols when it came to bookmarking, so I just wanted to thank those of you who have put those lovely lil hearts next to this here fic; I love y'all c:
> 
> -Also i'm still mad and angry about what Gimps did to Chandler, so you best believe that Carl is going to be given some focus in the future!
> 
> But with all that out of the way, I hope you guys enjoy! :)
> 
> And as always, I gotta reiterate, that i'm not much of a writer, so if this chapter isn't all that great, then i'm truly sorry!

"Would you - Would you like to see them?"

Rick asks, standing up, not even bothering to wait for Negan's answer. And Negan, of course, says yes, because it really is the polite fucking thing to do when you're dealing with a guy who just had his heart torn out from his chest. Picking his legs up off the floor, Negan follows the other man into the dining room. However, it's apparent as they step into the room, that Rick is caught off guard as he keeps eyeing the empty space on the wall next to the wooden cabinet in front of them. The space is about the size of an average frame, and it's lighter than the rest of the wallpaper that surrounds it. He assumes that this was where Rick had kept his family's portrait, but for reasons unbeknownst to him, the damn thing is gone and out of sight. The next thing he knows, Rick is slamming open the cabinet doors, shuffling through the various drawers inside in a frenzied manner. Paper and all kinds of shit hit the floor, and all Negan can do is watch as Rick makes an even bigger mess of the room as he frantically mutters questions to himself underneath his breath.

But just as things were starting to get even more out of hand, Rick suddenly comes to a halt.

"...Wait right here," Rick mumbles, and Negan surprisingly does as he is fucking told as the other man practically runs out of the room and out into the hall. For a second he contemplates as to whether or not Rick is about to have another breakdown, and that maybe he should go after the emotionally distraught man before he ends up going all american psycho on his ass; but he doesn't. Instead, he just stands there as Rick stomps around the place, slamming shit open to his heart's content, as the sounds echo throughout the otherwise quiet house.

Minutes seem to pass before he sees Rick's face again, as the guy pops back around the corner and plants both his hands on either side of the doorway with a huge ass smile on his face to boot. And just for one measly second, Negan is downright terrified. Because that was not the same man who had spent the better part of an hour crying his fucking heart out into the crook of his shoulder. No, this was a man with purpose; this was a man who had seen the grace of motherfucking God come straight out of the lord's righteous asshole.

"The pictures," Rick utters, pausing between words to catch his breath, "All-All our family pictures, all our photo albums, they're gone. They're all gone! And you know no stranger would think twice about taking those, Negan, they just wouldn't. Hell, I even checked the dressers and some of the drawers were empty; clothes, missing. Not alot, but just enough-"

"Enough for what, Rick?" Negan asks, shaking his head, knowing exactly what the other man was about to say before he even says it.

"Lori took off with them. My wife - Carl, they're alive!" And Rick says this with the utmost certainty, like he could die happy knowing this one little fact for the rest of his days, and Negan just has to pinch the bridge of his nose in the face of Rick's naivety; which was both pretty fucking annoying and heartbreaking all at the same time.

"Now just wait a minute-" Negan tries to interject, but Rick's too high on cloud nine at the moment to listen to him, as he excitedly spouts theories from left to right.

"And if there's anyplace my family could've gone, it's Georgia! We have family there, and surely the cities would-"

"Be safer? That's where you're fucking wrong, Rick," Negan states with a grimace, effectively stopping the younger man in his tracks, "The cities are full of shit. I've made my way through several of them, seen them with my very own eyes, and what I can fucking tell you is that those hell holes are practically crawling with those fucking things. I'm sorry Rick, but if your family is there, than they're probably long gone by now."

And, oh fuck fuck fuckity fuck, he almost wanted to take back what he had just said, because the look of hurt on Rick's face just about killed him. But he needed to know - Rick needed to know the reality of their situation. Happy endings were never gonna happen; not in this world, not anymore.

"Negan, please," Rick pleaded, raising his hands up so that he could shakily grip the other man's shoulders, "We can go wherever you want afterwards, but please, I have to see it for myself. At least give me that."

"Rick-"

"Or...I can just go by myself. You really have no obligation towards me, and so we can just go our separate ways. I'm sure you've got much better things to do, and I really shouldn't hold you up." Rick says this with a distressing smile; eyes glassy and wet against the light, and although he was not about to say what he really wanted to say out loud, the man's eyes were telling him a completely different story than the one he was currently spinning; Rick was practically begging for Negan to come along with him, and Negan? Negan is weak. He is a weak ass motherfucking bitch, and he swears to God that, besides the rather obvious concerning his late wife, he has never been this weak in his entire life. Not for the kids who begged him for mercy during their games of ping pong. Not for the parents of those very kids who showed up on his doorstep to give him their two cents on how he should stop cursing in front of their children and that he should start treating them like they were still shitting in their goddamn diapers. And most certainly not for the people who had doomed themselves by getting themselves bit in the first place. And yet, here he is.

Just by seeing the utter desperation in Rick's puppy dog eyes breaks his resolve, and he realizes, in that exact moment, that he is whipped. There was no way he could say no to him, especially not at such a crucial time like this, and he'd be damned if he let Rick get off so easily after he had spent almost a month waiting for the fucker to wake the fuck up. Oh no, he was stuck with him, whether he liked it or not. Besides, if seeing was believing, then maybe seeing Georgia in shambles would stop Rick from continuing to see things through rose colored glasses, and then he could start thinking rationally for a change.

"Alright, Rick," Negan grumbled, "We'll go."

And as soon as he gave in, Rick's face lit up, and suddenly lithe arms were enveloping him into a tight hug.

"Thank you."

And although he would never admit it, Negan had felt himself melt a little into that all too brief embrace.

-

Wanting to get some fresh air, and maybe explore the neighborhood a bit more if Rick was feeling up to it, Negan walks Rick out into the front yard as they spoke more on the subject of Georgia. Or more specifically, the city of Atlanta. It's made rather clear that he doesn't agree with anything that Rick has to say on the subject, but Rick humors him nevertheless, and things are all peachy keen until a figure staggers its way into view a little ways down the street.

Neither he nor Rick can make out if the thing is an actual person or just another dead fuck thanks to the glare of the sun, but Negan's money is on the latter despite Rick's constant rebuttals as the other man fucking waves at it from where he sits on the steps like he's about to invite the damn thing over to a goddamn barbecue at his place.

"Don't do that," Negan whispers, knocking Rick's hand out of the air.

"But what if-"

"But what if it's not?"

Rick, however, does not let it go, and so Negan does what he must to appease Rick's stubborn ass by going up to the thing himself to see what it was once and for all.

"Stay here," he tells Rick as he gets Lucille into position, approaching the limping fuck cautiously as he slowly makes his way towards it. When Negan gets close enough, he has to stop himself from yelling, "Now what did I tell you?!" over his shoulder, as he confirms that the fucker is, in fact, dead. But as soon as he's about to bash it's everloving brains in, Negan hears the sound of metal hitting flesh in the distance and he turns his head only to find Rick on the ground, and a kid-a fucking kid, holding a goddamn shovel, yelling for his dad to come and see.

And that's when he hears the sound of a trigger being cocked, and he can only assume that that is daddy dearest in the flesh as his head immediately whips back around just in time to see the undead shit's head explode, its body falling sideways as brain matter and blood splatter onto the grainy surface of the road below.

Negan is taken aback by surprise, as the sound of the gunshot reverberates through the air. But when he hears the same gun getting cocked for a second time, he just knows for a fact that the thing is now pointed at him as he instantly holds his hands up in surrender.

"Who are you?" The owner of the gun demands, voice gruff and steady as he presses the muzzle of the gun into the skin of Negan's cheek.

"Now calm your fucking nonexistent tits, papa bear," Negan asserts, taking a second to feel for the gun from the inside of his mouth as his tongue traces the indent of where it was currently digging itself into his cheek. "I was just in the neighborhood, minding my own goddamn business, when all of a sudden your kid knocks my friend the fuck out like he's Muhammad fucking Ali, and I do not take too kindly to that. Not at all."

He tries to say it like is, and doesn't even bother censoring himself because he could honestly care less about provoking the man if it's language that gets his blood boiling. But fortunately for Negan, it doesn't, and the man promptly lowers his gun and takes a few steps back to give him some much needed space. From this angle, Negan can finally get a good look at his would-be assailant and he's pretty much what he had been expecting; an older guy with a haggard face that's all lines and anxiety, sporting clothes that's just as worn out as he is by the looks of it. Negan's got a few inches on him, but that was pretty much a given seeing as he towered over mostly anyone he came in contact with, but regardless of how short the guy was compared to him, he still held an intimidating presence that no doubt came from having a son to protect in these crazy times. But as for right now, the man is calmer than he was before, and that angry little stare of his was replaced with one of remorse.

"I'm real sorry about that," the man says with genuine sincerity, "It's my son, he's real anxious when it comes to walkers coming around near our yard and he probably mistook your friend for one by mistake. Come on, let's see if he's alright," the man offers with a wave of his hand, and Negan more or less accepts the apology. There's just only one thing that fucking bothers him, and that's the fact that the other man has not put his gun away, and it sticks with him as they make their way to the sorry ass scene on Rick's lawn.

"Daddy, I got the sumbitch!" The boy exclaims as soon as he catches wind of his father, both proud of his accomplishment and terrified as he points at Rick's body with anticipation. It's only when he sees Negan appear from behind his father that he stops and does what any kid in his position would normally do; he asks questions.

"Daddy, who's this?"

The boy's father sighs, rubbing his temple with his free hand out of frustration, "...Just some person who's trying to survive like the rest of us, son. And you, you just knocked his friend unconscious."

"I did? But I thought-"

"He's alive, son."

The boy contemplates this, shifting on his feet like he's guilty, and rightfully so, but he apologizes nevertheless. "I'm sorry I hit your friend, sir. I thought he was one of 'em dead sumbitches."

Negan couldn't help but let loose a rather obnoxious snort at that as he began to laugh. The boy was only trying to defend himself, and he just couldn't even pretend to stay mad at the kid even if he tried. "It's quite alright, kid. Good ol' Rick here had it coming."

After securing Lucille in her usual place just above the straps of his backpack, Negan kneels down on the grass and proceeds to check for any lasting injuries that may have befallen poor Rick and that pretty little head of his. Checking the back of Rick's head first, his fingers linger a bit longer than they should as they run through the man's short curls in search of bumps; the hair is soft for the most part, albeit a bit damp from sweat thanks to the heat, before he lightly grips the sides of Rick's face and lifts it up so that he can get a better look at it. Blood trails from both his mouth and his nostrils, but besides a rather minor bump on the head that will no doubt hurt like a motherfucker when he wakes up, Rick's gonna do just fine.

Negan repeats his findings to the others, and the older man sighs in relief, "Good, that's good. I'm glad," he says rather hastily, but when he looks down at his son, all the worry and distress that had come with seeing one of those dead fucks and a pair of strangers near his kid washes away and is replaced with a pretty stand up guy who just really loves his son. "Looks like you're pretty much off the hook, huh, Duane?" The man teases, and the boy - Duane, glares at his father and playfully sticks his tongue out. And just for one moment, it seems like the two forget that he's even there to begin with until the man settles his gaze back on him.

"Oh, where are my manners? I'm Morgan. Morgan Jones," the man utters with a weary smile, reaching his hand out for him to shake, which Negan happily accepts. He can't remember when was the last time he'd actually shaken someone's hand in the name of common courtesy, and so it was quite a nice change of pace that there were still people out there who hadn't lost shit like manners as of yet.

"Negan," he replies, and he automatically chuckles as the other man raises a brow at the name given, "I know, I know. It sounds fake, doesn't it? But I can fucking assure you that it isn't. My mother saddled me with this godforsaken name all those years ago, and now I have to live with it." He plays around with Rick's head in his hands for a moment, thinking about just how he's going to go about carrying the unconscious fuck.

"But on the bright side," Negan continues absentmindedly, moving his right hand to slide under the back of Rick's knees, "No one else I know has got a name like it, so I guess that makes me a special little snowflake in that regard."

In the end, Negan decides that it's best if he carries Rick bridal style, as doing so would ensure that he could keep the man as straight as possible while he moves him back into the house for recuperation. Just because Rick had suffered a minor bump on his noggin, does not mean he was exempt from what he deemed as protocol when it came to these types of situations, and he'd rather be safe than sorry when it came to preserving the unlucky bastard. But just as he's about to whisk Rick away, Morgan steps forward.

"You mind if I help?" Morgan offers, as he gets down on one knee, "It'd be better if you have two people carrying him instead of just one, and...it's really the least I can do after what my boy did to him."

Negan blinks, and really, he should've just asked for the guy's help in the first place. But what's done is done, and he accepts Morgan's help, telling the other man to take ahold of Rick's feet as he begins to lift Rick up by his forearms. However, the change of position gives Morgan a good look at the bandage underneath Rick's shirt, and he reverts back to being the agitated mess he was just minutes ago, dropping his half of Rick back onto the ground as he aims his gun at Negan once more.

"What's the bandage for?" Morgan cries, pushing his son back, despite the boy's protests.

"Now calm dow-"

"No! You answer me, damn you," the man dictates, cocking his gun again in an act of intimidation, "What kind of wound does he have?"

"Gunshot," Negan states with a snarl, making his irritation at Morgan's demands clear in the tone of his voice, "He got it before all this shit happened. Man's a fucking police officer."

"Bullshit."

"I swear, it's fucking true. He's got a badge and everything. You can see it for your self, if you don't believe me."

Negan points down at the badge from where his hands are held up, and the other man swoops in and unclips it from Rick's belt, studying it with an ounce of skepticism. When Morgan is done examining the damn thing, he relents, and slides his gun into his back pocket for safe-keeping. He glares at Rick's bandage, and then at Negan himself, before he looks up and notices the sky. The sun's just about ready to set by the looks of it, and he knew that there was only trouble that came around after dark.

"I believe you about him being an officer," Morgan conceded, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he takes another quick glance at the sky, "But you could still be lying about his wound and I can't have that. So here's what we're going to do. We're going to head over to the house next door, and i'm going to take a look at your friend here for further examination. If I call your bluff, or you try to pull something on us I will not hesitate to kill the both of you, because I will. Do we have a deal?"

"We do," Negan spat out, none too happy about any of the shit that has been unfolding. It was all just a waste of time, and he was definitely not looking forward to Morgan being a pissy little bitch the whole way through. He knew where the man was coming from, but right now, all he wanted to do was take a load off and make him and Rick something to eat. But no, instead of doing what he'd rather be doing, he has to head off to interrogation central with this paranoid fuck and there was nothing he could do about it thanks to Rick, who just had to fall on his ass like a goddamn lightweight. But at the very least, he didn't have to carry Rick all by his lonesome since Morgan had begrudgingly taken a hold of Rick's legs as Duane led them to the house, opening the door for them as they shuffled their way inside. He doesn't have much time to look around the place as Rick is the number one thing that he focuses on as they climb up the stairs, making sure not to bend Rick's body in the process. When they reach the top of the steps, Morgan backs them into a room not too far along the hall, and they settle Rick gently down onto the bed. Duane stays within the safety of the doorway, watching the scene from afar as his gaze flickers between him and Morgan with caution and a fair bit of genuine curiosity. The kid's father acknowledges him, before turning towards Negan, motioning for him to back away so that he can do what he deems necessary. And Negan complies for the most part, that is, until the fucker pulls out a pocket knife and all hell breaks loose.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?!" Negan bellows, scowling at the knife in Morgan's hand as it's pointed straight at Rick's chest.

"Don't worry, i'm simply going to remove his shirt. It's better not to move his body too much in his current condition, and we've done enough already."

"Then let me do it," Negan pries, giving Morgan his open palm instead of just taking the knife out of the man's hand with brute force.

Morgan apparently appreciates this simple gesture, and hands him the knife's handle even though he still looks at him with suspicion in his eyes. The fabric of Rick's shirt is cheap, and so it's easy to cut it open without it giving him a hard time. Really, he could tear Rick's shirt open with his bare hands if he really wanted to, but this really wasn't the time to think about that, now was it? With the shirt out of the way, Rick's chest is out in the open for all to see, including the bandage that covered the man's wound, which, now that he saw it up close, looked absolutely disgusting, and the smell that wafted from it was just as bad, if not worse.

"Jesus," Morgan lets out, "Did you guys look at this and think it was just fine and dandy? God, does it reek." He huffs, glancing at the bandage with an ounce of worry that surprises even Negan, "This could be infected, you know."

"I guess we were just too eager to get out of the damn hospital to really worry about it at the time," Negan sighs, hand pressed against his forehead as he looks down at Rick as the man sleeps, blissfully unaware. It was more like he was the one who was too eager to get out. He really should have checked it out while they were there. He could have changed it, and it would've been good as fucking new. They wouldn't have to deal with this shit if he had just used some common sense. But with that in mind, a part of him also blames Rick, as he ought to have seen how bad it looked when he was changing into his clothes. He ought to have known how complete and utterly fucked it looked, and yet he didn't say anything about it. Not a single word. God fucking dammit.

Before he can continue to blame himself for Rick's shitty and no doubt infected wound, however, he's interrupted by Morgan as the man calls out to his son.

"Duane!"

"Yes, daddy?" The kid answers, arms crossed and brows raised in concern.

"I want you to get the first-aid kit from downstairs, as well as a bowl of warm water and a towel. Can you do that for me, son?"

The boy nods his head, and quickly makes his way out the door and down the stairs to get what his father had asked of him, leaving him and Morgan completely and utterly alone. Well besides there being Rick, but he didn't exactly count at the moment.

The air between them is stiff as they wait for Duane to come back with the supplies, and their silence only exemplifies how wary Morgan is of him, but sooner or later the man relents as it's him who breaks it after a minute or so. Morgan's voice permeates the room with a change of subject, as Duane all but fails to keep as quiet as possible as the boy noisily searches for things down below.

"The hospital, you said? The one up the road?"

"That's the one."

"How long have you two been there?"

"I've been there for a few weeks. Rick, on the other hand, has been there since the beginning of all this shit. And believe it or not," Negan leans in, voice all but a whisper, "He just woke up today."

Morgan, of course, snickers in utter disbelief at first, but when he notices that he hasn't laughed alongside him, his chuckles at Rick's expense go quiet. "You're serious?"

"As serious as a motherfucking heart attack, i'm afraid. Rick's been in a coma."

"Well that sure is something," Morgan expressed with another chuckle, glancing down at Rick's hospital bracelet as he takes the unconscious man's arm in hand to read the labeling.

"Tell me about it."

"Your friend here has quite the story," Morgan trails off with a smile, "How about yours? What's your story?"

"Nothing as fantastic as Rick's, I can tell you that," Negan utters, rubbing his chin, "I was just making my way up to Illinois where the rest of my family ought to be. Came right on over from Virginia." It's a half lie at best; Illinois is only part of his journey when it comes to going further up north, but thanks to Rick, that trip will have to be delayed in due time. But it's nothing Morgan has to hear at the moment, and he has a feeling that it won't matter much when him and Rick leave this place for good.

He's about to bullshit some more when footsteps alert both him and Morgan of Duane's return as the kid makes his grand entrance balancing a huge ass bowl on top of the first-aid kit as it wobbles against it's ridges, and a towel hanging loosely over his shoulder. It's a fucking adorable sight to behold, and both him and the boy's father can't help but chuckle as Duane makes his way over to where Morgan is and settles the supplies onto the dresser for his father's use. Morgan thanks him with a pat on his head, and the kid returns to watching them from the safety of the hallway. With a laugh at his son's quick departure, Morgan opens the first-aid kit, taking out a pair of scissors and moves to cut the bandage off of Rick. Once it's removed, he dips the towel in warm water and dabs it onto the area, clearing up the dried blood and muck that resides there with ease.

"That's a bullet hole, alright," Morgan says when the indent is clear as day. It's a bit pink, not having healed fully as of yet, but there isn't any cause for alarm when it comes to the topic of infection, because there is none, and thank God. Relieved, Negan moves to thank the other man, but Morgan tells him to think nothing of it.

"Don't sweat it. Think of it as compensation for dealing with my paranoid ass," Morgan said as he brushed the whole thing aside, placing the new bandage onto Rick's skin as he applies surgical tape to keep it sturdy. And then things turn serious for a moment as the other man looks him in the eye, "Now are you sure he didn't get bit?" He asks earnestly.

"Yes, i'm sure. I've been with him all this fucking time and I can easily say that he has not been touched by one of those things. Not on my watch."

"Good," Morgan beams, but before he can say anything else, he immediately mutters, "Oh shit," under his breath as he's in the middle of ringing out the towel that he had just used on Rick. "I haven't started dinner yet!"

"Want me to help out?" Negan asks, still wanting to repay the man one way or another.

"No, that's quite alright. You're a guest in our house, and therefore we should be the ones to cook for you and your friend here. Besides, all we have are beans anyways."

"Doesn't bother me much, i'd be more than happy to help. And if y'all are in the fucking mood, I have some food of my own that we could make. It'd be a shame to waste your supplies on us anyway."

"...What do you have?" Morgan inquires with just a hint of reluctance.

Negan smirks, and sets his bag down, reaching inside to see what he still has, can-wise, "Lets see...I got clam chowder, chicken soup, and if none of that tickles your balls...." he trails off, reaching inside to get the last can before shaking it in the other man's face, "I got corn."

Morgan smiles again, and it's real fucking nice to see the other man smile. "I-thank you. It'll be good to have some variety. And between you and me, i've been getting real tired of the taste of beans."

"Well that's fan-fucking-tastic, because i've been craving some beans myself," Negan replies, "Maybe we can have ourselves a little trade."

Walking downstairs to prepare dinner, he and Morgan enter the kitchen, with Duane following suit. Negan settles his bag on the counter to retrieve the aforementioned cans and hands them over to Morgan as he gets the heater ready so that they can cook. He's about to close his bag back up when he notices the kid out of the corner of his eye, who's staring intently inside the bag from the other side of the counter. And just from that look alone, he knows exactly what Duane has set his sights on. Candy. Reaching his hand inside, Negan grabs a hold of one of the packets that he still had left over from the hospital and takes it out, along with a slew of dried up flower petals that were also left over, which reminds him that he should probably clean out the damn thing the next time he has the chance.

"Here, kid," Negan says with a smile, handing Duane what turned out to be a pack of skittles, "Go nuts."

The boy's face immediately lights up, and he thanks him profusely with a toothy grin, running off with the candy before Morgan can have a say about it.

"What did you give him?"

"Just some candy," Negan shrugs, none too bothered as he still has loads of the shit in his bag, and he just loves to see kids happy in general.

Morgan makes a face at that and turns towards the direction that the kid had run off to. "You make that last, young man!" Morgan calls out to his son, and he can hear Duane giggling in the distance.

Duane does come back after a while to set the table when dinner's just about ready, and Negan takes this time to venture back up the stairs to check on Rick. The man's in the middle of rubbing his eyes as he walks into the room, but nevertheless, he's awake.

"Well rise and shine, sleeping beauty! It's about time you woke up," Negan says with a grin as he sets himself down next to Rick on the bed.

"You smell like shit," Rick replies groggily, and Negan takes full offense at this until he takes a whiff of his own shirt. He does smell like shit.

"Well so do you," Negan murmurs indignantly.

Rick looks around a bit more, and his brows furrow in surprise. "This isn't my house..."

"No, it isn't," Negan retorts, "We're having a sleepover with the kid who bonked you across the head with that shovel of his and his dad. So play nice. 'Sides, it's too late to go back to your house now that it's dark out. But on the bright side, dinner's ready."

There's another pause, and then-

"Where'd my shirt go?"

"Oh, well we had to cut it open. Morgan saw your bandage, and he thought you got bit."

"Oh."

"Well don't look too disappointed, I'm sure Morgan will let you borrow one of his. He seems like a pretty nice guy after all."

Rick groans and feels at the back of his head, and Negan has to stifle a laugh at being proven right. He gets off, and helps Rick get up from the bed as the man takes the blanket along with him and bundles himself up for modesty's sake; and the result is just too damn cute for words. Rick looks even smaller this way, and he has to bite his lip to keep from commenting about it in fear of the man's wrath. The two of them make their way to the steps when Rick wobbles as he leans against the railing.

"You need me to carry you down the steps? Because I will. You just gotta say the word," Negan croons, teasing Rick as the other man squints at him in response.

"I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much," Rick declared before taking one step and inadvertently tripping on the blanket as he falls forward only for Negan to catch him in the nick of time.

-

They eat and they catch up. Rick's formally introduced to Morgan and Duane and they hit it off surprisingly well after Morgan apologizes to him about what had happened earlier. He also explains things better than he could ever about the undead; he even has a name for them that he must've missed out on when the news was still on the air. Walkers. Now that was quite the name. And it definitely rolled better off the tongue then what he had been calling them after all this time. It also turns out that the house doesn't even belong to Morgan at all. Apparently him and his family were making their way over to the city when they got stopped out here in the middle of nowhere, and took refuge after having no other place to go. He doesn't blame them though, since everything's been so hectic lately, but he digresses.

Negan doesn't really take part much in the conversation besides adding his own take on things, as he's too busy drawing pictures with Duane after the boy had brought some old worn out crayons and some withered pages of newspaper to the table. The kid ain't no Picasso by any means, but he has a surprisingly good grasp on structure and has his own way of coloring now that he was down to only three crayons. They smile and laugh, and Negan encourages the kid because fuck it's been so long since he's actually done that, and Duane sure as hell reminds him of some of the kids that he used to coach way back when. The nice ones, that is. Not those brats who always got themselves into trouble over the stupidest fucking shit. He could care less about them.

Eventually they all move on into the crowded living room to get some sleep; with Morgan and Duane on their makeshift beds, while the former pulls out an extra mattress for Rick, which left Negan with the couch. They dim the lights as to not draw any attention to themselves, and talk silently amongst themselves as they lay in bed. But Rick, the nosy fuck that he was, gets up and starts walking towards the window when a car alarm goes off in the distance. He tries to pull him back, but Rick's too damn curious for his own good. Rick ends up looking through a hole in one of the many matted cloths that cover the window with morbid fascination for the dead as they pile up in the street, and Morgan laments on how he shouldn't have pulled the trigger today because now the street was overrun with those fucking fucks. And he's right, he shouldn't have. Negan had Lucille and he would have gladly brought that one shithead to its end had he not been distracted. But that time's over and now they have to deal with the consequences of Morgan's indiscretion. Duane and Morgan join Rick at the window in reflection as they look on, until Duane suddenly gasps, "She's here!" and Morgan tells them all to get back. Duane runs back to his bed and Morgan follows soon after as the boy begins to cry in his father's arms. Rick, however, moves on over to the door to get a better look when suddenly the doorknob starts turning, and he knows for sure that Rick sure as hell wasn't the one who was doing it. Rick then swiftly makes his back to the safety of his cot with a bewildered look on his face, and Negan shares in his bemusement from his seat on the couch. Morgan explains that it was his wife at the door, and that she had died on the very bed that Rick had just been resting on not too long ago. He tells them that he didn't have it in him to kill her, so he pretty much kicked her out of the fucking house after she had turned. And this makes Negan furious as all fuck for some reason that he cannot place at the moment, but it overtakes all his senses and he can do nothing but let it out.

"You didn't put her down?!" Negan growls in a harsh whisper, finding it so hard to not raise his voice as he's overcome with anger. Morgan looks up at him through his tears in shock, and Rick looks straight up dumbfounded at his rage, but he doesn't care. None of them probably thought that he'd react this way, but now the cat's outta the fucking bag and he was not about to bottle it all up inside for their sake.

"You think this is what she'd want from you?" He continues, his hands making up for the lack of depth in his voice as the gestures he makes are just as wild and livid. "You think she'd want this? To know that her fucking body is still going around biting people and shit because you were just too much of a pussy to put her down?! That is selfish as all fuck, man, and you know it."

"I just can't, she's my wife," Morgan sobs, clutching Duane even tighter, and for a second Negan thinks about abandoning his tirade, if not for their sake, then for Duane's. But then Morgan hits a chord, and that thought completely goes out the window.

"You wouldn't understand, you don't know what it's like-" Morgan strains, sighing hopelessly in self pity.

"I wouldn't understand?!" Negan reiterates, visibly seething, "You don't even know me!"

It takes all his strength to keep his voice under control, to keep from yelling at the other man and bring all the ugly dead sons of bitches outside to the house, but he somehow does it miraculously.

"Negan," Rick starts, trying to intervene as he puts a hand on his arm at an attempt to calm him down, but Negan, in return, looks Rick straight in the eyes and the man winces from just his stare alone. He can now see how much of an asshole he's become, and so he grits his teeth and takes a deep breath. Turning his head, he glares daggers at Morgan from the couch, digging his nails into the front of his own jeans as he practically claws at his knees to quiet his own anger.

"If you don't do it," he warns in the vein of a threat, "She will be the death of you."

Morgan crumbles up and doesn't say another word after that, and instead just holds his son tightly against him. It isn't until both him and Duane are asleep when Rick decides to admonish Negan for his lack of sympathy.

"That was completely uncalled for, Negan," Rick chides, letting his displeasure out in the fucking open for the whole world to hear. But Negan could fucking care less about what he felt when it came down to what had gone on between him and Morgan. This wasn't the type of thing that Rick could know on a personal level like they did, and so he had no say on the fucking matter to begin with.

"I don't care, Rick. I'd rather be straight forward with this shit, than to try and beat around the goddamn bush. Morgan knows what he needs to do, he knows what needs to be done. He just needs to grow a pair and figure his fucking shit out before it's too late."

"But, Negan, this is his wife that we're talking about, not just some random person off the street. You have to think about-"

"I. Don't. Care," he reiterates, "Once you lose someone out here, you will understand. But until then, I do not want to hear a goddamn peep from you about it until you fucking do."

And with that, Negan turns on his side, away from Rick's prying eyes. He lets his eyes close, but before he can drift off into blessed sleep, he hears Rick ask something that he just doesn't have it in him to answer the way the other man clearly wants him to.

"...Did you lose someone close to you, Negan?"

"We all have."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (chapter will be edited sometime later after I get some much needed sleep, because lord knows i'm gonna be reading over this chapter in the afternoon when I wake up and see all sorts of wrong in it lol)
> 
> Yeah, so I tried to mix Morgan's initial cordial-ness in the comics with his rather paranoid nature in the show in his introduction. I'm not sure how I did there, but I tried my best. And that's all that matters! XD
> 
> Yeah so next chapter, we'll be finishing things up in Cynthiana, and Negan gets to see Rick all cleaned up after they take some much needed showers...so there will be some Negan thirst ;)


	8. Farewell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (don't worry y'all, the chapter title is just a chapter title! you have not read that wrong, this is an actual bonafide update y'all!! AND IT'S 8K TO BOOT)
> 
> ...Wow, so it's been like nine months since I last updated, almost a year, really, and first off I just wanted to say that i'm truly sorry for having taken so long to bring you guys this new chapter. I never meant to take so long, but life has been absolutely crazy and I just haven't been my best self as of late, but now I'm gonna update this dang fic amidst a hurricane lol (I'm in NC baby!)
> 
> I hope you guys are doing great, and I hope you guys will enjoy this chapter for what it is! I know some of you guys probably don't like how slow this fic is going, especially when it comes to the pacing, but I always intended this fic to focus on the characters rather than how many twists and changes I could make to canon events, and I just think the slow progression helps to give the fic this kind of slice of life feel kind of feel (especially in the first few chapters) that kinda reflects that. This was actually one of the things that was bothering me whenever I opened the draft to this fic throughout the past year, and it just really demotivated me from getting any work down (along with all the sad news about twd that has happened this year) so I just wanted to get that off my chest before I continue writing the next few chapters. Also there's the matter of my writing style having changed quite a bit, but that doesn't worry me as much.
> 
> Also, I just gotta thank all the new readers who have come across this here fic and decided to give me kudos and bookmarks even though it probably looked like I never was going to update ever again! Y'all rock!!
> 
> Special thanks also goes to @ItCouldAllBeForNothingTomorrow (I have no idea how to mention people on here, nor do I know if that even is an option lol) for coming back to this fic a few months back and both encouraged me and reassured me that there were still people who were interested in my story; I know this probably comes to you much later than you probably expected and that maybe you've finally given up on me, but I just wanted to say that your comment meant a whole lot to me and this chapter is dedicated to you! :'D
> 
> Anyways, as always, I gotta reiterate, that i'm not much of a writer, so if this chapter isn't all that great, then i'm truly sorry, and I will proceed to launch myself into the motherfucking sun because i'm a dramatic ass bitch.

The first thing that Negan sees when he wakes up is Rick using his leg like it's a goddamn pillow. Apparently the guy hadn't changed his position from the previous night, and now Rick's head is lolled against his right thigh, mouth slightly open and lashes curled once more against the planes of his cheeks, and Negan has never wanted a fucking camera more than he does at this very moment. _God_ , why'd he have to be so fucking pretty? He takes a minute to just appreciate this moment like the magical fucking unicorn that it is before he gently picks the man's head up and places it on the cushion of the much more comfortable couch as he then moves to stand up. Rick will no doubt have a major crick in his neck regardless once he wakes up, but that was entirely his own fault and he had no one else to blame but himself.  
  
Treading quietly around the room, Negan notices that while Duane is still sleeping, his father, however, is not. Morgan's side of their makeshift bed is empty, save for the kid's hand as it clutches the wrinkled sheets that his father had left behind, and he supposes that the guy's just an early riser much like himself. Which is good, because now he can talk to him one on one without having to worry about the others butting in, and there were certainly some things that needed to be discussed. Such as the motherfucking temper tantrum he had pulled last night. Now that, was something he most definitely had to apologize for, even if it meant taking back some of the shit that he had so rightfully said. He didn't know what exactly had made him fucking snap, but not even Morgan deserved his rage, even if most of the things that he had said were indeed fucking true. It'd be a shame to leave things on bad terms after all, and if there was a chance that they'd ever meet again after today, he'd rather be welcomed with open arms instead of another fucking gun pointed at his goddamn head.  
  
Searching high and low for the man in question, Negan ends up finding Morgan in the backyard as the man sits hunched over on a set of stairs leading into the untamed grass that laid just ahead. The sun's just about ready to rise, and the sky takes on a mixture of various shades of pink and purple to counteract the burgeoning orange of dawn itself, pervading the clouds above with light gradually setting in to brighten the heavens above. Plopping next to the other man on the steps, Negan lets out a simple grunt to announce his arrival, to which Morgan, in return, gives him a sideways glance in acknowledgement; but he does not speak. No, 'Good fucking morning, Negan,' no, 'Get the fuck out of my face, Negan;' just silence. And it goes on, for minutes on end as they both stare up at the stars that still remained in the sky until Negan opts to end their little game of chicken and begrudgingly opens up with his apology.  
  
"Look," Negan sighs, getting himself ready to relay the whole spiel that he had been rehearsing in his head, "I just wanted to say-"  
  
But before he can continue, Morgan suddenly shifts, crossing his arms and opening his mouth before Negan can even continue on with his aforementioned apology. "Save it," Morgan interrupts with bitter ire in the tone of his voice, "You meant what you said. No need to start apologizing for things you ain't sorry for."  
  
Negan shrugs in response, because he did try essentially, and he should most definitely get an A-plus for effort alone; but whether Morgan was going to listen to him or not, he still needed to fucking say what he needed to fucking say and get it off his goddamn chest lest he regret it later when the time eventually does come for regret.  
  
"No," Negan grits out, "I was too fucking hard on you, and for that, i'm sorry."  
  
Morgan picks his head up at that, meeting his gaze once more with a question forming in the furrow of his brows, as well as within the creases of his wrinkles that now decorated the man's tired eyes.  
  
"But for everything else..." Negan trails off, "I'm fucking right, and you already fucking know it."  
  
Morgan huffs, letting out a grumble as he then brings a hand up to rest on his forehead in exasperation, "You don't understand-"  
  
However, before Morgan can continue on some sorry ass tangent, Negan interjects on his own behalf; and if the underlying weight of his words weren't so fatal to his own well being, he would have fucking smiled for having given the other man a taste of his own medicine, "On the contrary, asshole. I understand full well about the shit that you're going through."  
  
As expected, there's a pause after he lets loose that truth bomb on Morgan. Negan notices the way that the man's eyes widen, how he fiddles with the seams of his worn out jeans, completely soaking in the information that he had just been given. All it takes is for one measly admission to change a person's outlook on you and how they perceive you, and that certainly is the case when it comes to Morgan as the man gains the courage to look back up at him with both curiosity and shame prevalent in the lines of his weary face.  
  
"...You lost someone, didn't you?"   
  
Negan solemnly nods, and Morgan inhales as he runs his hand down over his face, anxiously rubbing at his stubbled jaw.  
  
"Who was it?" Morgan asks, "Your girlfriend? Your partner? Your-"  
  
"My wife. Just like yours."  
  
Negan sees Morgan swallow at that, the man's adam's apple bobbing weakly at the base of his throat, and he feels a swell of pity for him as the realization hits Morgan with what must feel like a punch to the gut.  
  
"Well aren't we just two peas in a pod?" Morgan shakily sighs with a bitter laugh. He then reaches a hand around to rub at his neck sheepishly, meeting his gaze once more with an apology of his own ready on his lips.  
  
"I'm sorry, I sh-"  
  
"Shouldn't have assumed? You're damn right," Negan retorts, letting anger fill his lungs for just a moment until he lets it all out with a simple shake of his head, "But i'll let it slide. Just remember; never make assumptions, because when you assume, you just end up making a fucking ass out of both you and me. So I guess, really, we're both at fault here."  
  
Morgan sighs in relief, a small smile curving the corners of his mouth. "Well since you accepted my apology, I might as well accept yours...but under one condition."  
  
"Now what's that?" Negan says with a raise of his brow.  
  
"You refrain from cussing around Duane during the remainder of your time spent with us. I do not need him getting a foul mouth because you can't seem to stop saying the word 'fuck' to save your own damn life."  
  
Negan snorts, letting out a hearty laugh as he gives Morgan a huge grin and nudges the man with his elbow, "Well look who has the foul mouth now."  
  
"It's because of you. You're already rubbing off on me, I suppose," Morgan states with a grin of his own, and they both continue to chuckle as they watch the sun rise together.   
  
-  
  
Eventually Rick and Duane wake up, and they officially start the day off with Rick getting some practice in by trying his hand at killing some of the dead fuckers out in the yard. The guy's able to strike at 'em alright, but it's mighty obvious to the both of them that he's rusty as fuck, and so Negan, having his goddamn teacher instincts suddenly kick in after all this time due to Rick's lack of fucking finesse, instructs the man out of pure habit.   
  
"Although I can usually get them down with a single hit straight to the noggin myself, you should at least be able to incapacitate them in two hits. Three at most," he says, stepping out into the grass as he twirls Lucille in his grip, "One to knock them off their feet, and a second to finish the job. The only exception to that rule is if the thing turns out to be a massive bag of dicks and ya gotta double-tap to make sure it's down for the count. See, watch my form!"   
  
Negan walks over towards Morgan to use him as an example, seeing as the yard was currently absent of any live ones for him to torment, but neglects to tell him as he practically sneaks up behind the man. So, maybe, he shouldn't have been surprised when Morgan instinctively grabs at the bat as soon as he moves to raise it above his head. "Hey, don't you worry," Negan assures him, "I'm just gonna give you a little tap is all, nothing more. You can totally trust me on this, i'm a grade-A fucking professional!"  
  
"Ahem," Morgan utters disapprovingly, but it takes Negan a second for common sense to kick in as he fails to notice the error of his ways, going on another tangent regarding the single word that had just been spoken.   
  
"Excuse me, but what is this 'ahem' shit?" Negan gesticulates, "I was just-" and then he stops, and it finally hits him. _Oh_. He pauses, drawing his mouth into a firm line as he shifts his gaze from Morgan to the man's son standing right beside him, "Sorry, kiddo."  
  
But lucky for him, Duane doesn't think much of it and merely shrugs his shoulders and it's enough for the boy's father to relent with only a warning being sent his way through the change of expression on Morgan's face before they get back to the topic at hand.  
  
"When was the last time you had even washed that thing?" Morgan asks with a grimace, staring at Lucille with disgust in his eyes and Negan has to take a step back and gasp in offense, holding his beloved bat close to him in a mock embrace.  
  
"Oh come now, Lucille here is as clean as can be, I swear!"  
  
It's at that moment that Rick decides to join in on the conversation, perking up at the mention of the not so familiar name with a cock of his head and an amused smile.  
  
"Lucille? You named your bat?"

"What, of course I - Wait! Did I forget to introduce her to you fine folks?" Negan exclaims, truly aghast, "Well excuse me, where are my manners? This here lady, gents, is Lucille, and she is my right-hand gal!"

He shows her off like the car salesman that he was long ago, with true showmanship and a flair for the dramatic that manages to get a giggle out of Duane, despite the boy's bitterness at him from the previous night, and a chuckle out of Rick.

"So, you're a fan of B.B King, then?" Rick assumes, and it takes Negan a moment to reply back because he has to make a decision right then and there. He can already tell that Morgan has put two and two together when the older man gives him a knowing look that showcases his sympathy for his loss, but Rick remains oblivious for the time being; and maybe that's for the best.

"...Yeah," Negan starts, delaying the truth as he moves to clear his throat, "I sure am! King of the blues, that man was. And Lucille, well she's just a doll. Saved my life quite a few times, so why not bestow a name befitting of such an honor."

Rick seems to buy it, and Negan can't help but let out a sigh of relief as they resume the lesson without any more interruptions. Afterwards, after he's gotten the chance to annoy the fuck out of Morgan some more, and they make a quick stop at Rick's so that the man can retrieve his station keys, they all get off their lazy asses and decide to head into town. It takes them a bit to get there, with Rick's wound making a fuss every now and again, but once they get to their destination the ache doesn't seem to bother him as much as Rick then assumes a sense of authority that comes with the territory.

The station's small, given that the town is small, but it's convenient as fuck as Rick gives them a bit of a tour of the building before he ends up leading them all to the showers. _Showers_. God, just saying the word was a miracle in of itself, and he, unashamedly, is the first one to start stripping as soon as they step onto the tiles, leaving a trail of clothes behind in his wake.

Getting into the stalls, they luxuriate in the literal godsend that is hot water, the steam filling the room as water streams down upon them and washes away the filth off their bodies courtesy of the station's propane system still being in the works. Duane's singing to his heart's content as he and his father smile and giggle out of pure and utter joy, and the sight of it's like a goddamn Hallmark card, which prompts Negan to turn his head to the other stall so that he could make a remark to Rick about it, but then he stops; his jaw drops, and his throat suddenly becomes extremely dry because _Jesus motherfucking Christ_ , Rick just did not know how to stop with his stupid fucking gorgeous ass face. Now he had thought that Rick at his utmost grimiest had looked good, but seeing the guy clean-shaven, with water trickling down every single plane of his body with that beautiful as fuck smile of his was something else entirely.

Negan unconsciously licks his lips, feeling like his brain had just malfunctioned from the mere sight of Rick. It reminded him of one of those Greek myths that he had taught back in the day when he had been subbing for the English teacher, and it was like he had just caught some ancient God bathing in a river, completely unaware of his presence, and all that he can do is continue to ogle Rick as the man unwittingly puts on a show for him. That is, until Rick furrows his brow, smile dropping almost immediately, and _he knows_ , _he fucking knows_ that Negan's eyes are on him as he looks his way, meeting his gaze with that trademark squint of his eyes, and Negan is at a loss for words. Rick then arches his brow, and the word that exits those plump lips of his is a simply put, "What?"

Negan quickly recovers, however, as he had been in this particular type of situation many times before; from his awkward teenage years of being the resident pervert and using his growth spurt to his advantage to sneak a peek or two on some of his teammates after practice, to taking a shower with Lucille after a long night of making love and being overwhelmed by her everything. And so, putting on his most shit-eating grin, Negan lets out a wolf whistle and does what he does best; he improvises.

"Well look at you, Rick," Negan snickers, placing his arms atop the barrier between them as he then leans forwards to stare lazily at Rick," You got a baby face under all that man fuzz, who would have guessed!"

This causes Rick to roll his eyes and gets the man to return to the mundanity that is shaving as Negan goes back to doing his own thing, simultaneously scolding himself for having been way too fucking obvious with his interest for the guy, and trying to will down the fucking chub that was beginning to form just from seeing Rick in his purest form.

It works, for the most part, but as they all start to get out of the stalls, he manages to catch a glimpse of Rick's perky little ass before the man manages to wrap a towel around his waist, and he has to bite his lip to stifle the groan trying to escape from his mouth because _fuck_ , there is a child here, and he was not about to scar the kid even more than he has already just because he hasn't gotten any kind of action in months.

Drying off at the benches, Rick sends Duane to the station's dressing room so that they could all talk amongst themselves like the grownups that they are. They talk about Atlanta once more, and while Rick and Morgan seem convinced that the place is relatively safe, he isn't. They had already talked about it briefly back at the house, about how there was supposedly this huge fucking refugee center there, and that that's where Rick's family, along with a whole fuckton of survivors ought to be huddled up at with just enough food to hold them over, along with military protection to boot; but it all just seemed too good to be true. Especially with the CDC allegedly working themselves towards finding a cure for all this goddamned fuckery, now that sounded like a huge fucking load of horseshit, but what all that just ended up doing was fuel Rick's almost dangerous capacity for hope.

"That's where we were headed," Morgan admits, thinking back on the early days of the apocalypse with a grimace, "But things got crazy. Man, you wouldn't believe the panic. The streets were unfit to be on, and then, well, my wife, she - we couldn't travel, not with a herd, so we found a place to lay low. And then when she died-" He stops and swallows, looking away for a second to gather his own thoughts, barely even holding himself together before he weakly continues with a choked off whisper, "-We just stayed hunkered down. I guess we just froze in place."

The room is deathly quiet for a moment or two, with only the pitter patter of water leftover from their respective showers dripping onto the tiles to console them until Rick finds himself drawing in a breath and grants Morgan a look of utmost sincerity. "Time to move on," he offers, his tone firm yet oh so gentle in its delivery.

Morgan lets out a shaky breath before inhaling, pumping his chest full of air only to let it all out with a despondent curl of his lips and a sigh, "Haven't quite worked up to it yet."

"Well," Negan shrugs, taking a step forward from where he had been leaning against one of the lockers, "Either way, it's about time you and your boy got out of this shit-town. No offense, Rick, but this place is nothing but a motherfucking ghost town now, and I know y'all would be much better off without certain reminders getting in your guys' way."

Morgan sighs, but nevertheless nods in agreement as he fiddles with the shirt in his hands," I suppose you're right. You both are, I just - I need a little bit more time. To get us packed and ready - and, to say goodbye."

And with that, Morgan stands up and begins to dress, which causes the rest of them to follow suit like a line of dominoes. But just when Negan's about to put on his shirt, Rick stops him in the nick of time, offering to let him _borrow_ some clothes instead. Initially, he wants to refuse, simply because he thinks he doesn't need it, but when he looks back down upon his pile of tattered clothes and notices the multiple rips and stains, the frayed edges and the smell that wafts off of them in droves like a perfume of rot, the first thing that pops into his mind is _nope_ , like hell was he going to put all that shit back on, not after he had just gotten himself squeaky clean; and so, with a show of reluctance, Negan takes Rick up on his offer.

With a smile and a nod, the man moves to retrieve a fresh batch of clothes for him by picking and choosing between the compartments sidled alongside the walls before settling on what turned out to be his partner's - Shane's - locker. Rick then proceeds to tell Negan that him and his friend look roughly the same size, but he wouldn't be surprised if he had just picked Shane's stuff over everyone else's just so he could get a whiff of whatever scent the man had left behind judging by the smell of cheap deodorant and hair gel that welcomed them once Rick managed to break the combination lock. But of course, it could also be for the fact that Rick didn't want to fucking steal from anybody else like a good little cop, lest the world somehow return back to normal just so he would have to face the consequences of theft.

The set of clothes that Negan receives consists of a plain white t-shirt and a pair of jeans, as well as boxers and Shane's uniform shirt to which he keeps a majority of, save for the underwear for which he chucks, deciding to go commando instead. Everything else was fine, but there was just something weird about wearing another man's underwear, and so he didn't mind not having to wear them not one fucking bit; in fact, he preferred it.

Leaving to retrieve some clothes for himself from the back, Rick leaves the two of them to their own devices and Negan takes this opportunity to sit next to Morgan on the bench as the man finishes lacing up his shoes. After drying off his chest some, Negan pulls on the shirt that he had been given, before leaning in close and whispering, "So...you're going to put an end to her, huh? Your wife?"

It takes Morgan out of whatever form of monotony he had fooled himself in to be able to function after so much as mentioning his wife - and yes, he knows that it's out of poor taste, but he needs to make sure that the other man does what he needs to do, for both his boy's sake and his own. 

"Yes," Morgan murmurs, "I intend to do just that." But there's a hesitation in Morgan's voice and a clear look of agony in his eyes at the very thought of doing so, and it does nothing to convince Negan otherwise and yet he understands the feeling all too well. Placing a comforting hand on the man's shoulder, Negan gives him a reassuring smile despite it all, but in that instant, he knows that there's something that he ought to be considering as well. 

After getting dressed, they all wait for Rick for further directions only for the guy to return from the back decked out in an old police uniform complete with a fucking cowboy hat saddled atop his head, looking like a hero from a goddamn western. It's enough to make Negan guffaw and he can't help but let out another whistle out of the pure hilarity of their situation as a whole, "Well get a load of you, Ranger Rick!"

"That's sheriff's deputy to you," Rick counters back with a grin, which causes Negan to chuckle, holding his hands up in mock surrender, "You got me there."

After getting a few more laughs out of the way, Rick leads them all to the armory; getting Morgan and himself stocked up on guns and ammunition, including a pistol for Duane once the boy gets around to learning how to shoot. And then, as quickly as they had came, the group makes their way out of the station, bags in hand, and prepare to say their goodbyes as Rick goes ahead and divides the cars between them.

But of course, Rick, being the man that he is, tries in vain to get Morgan and Duane to come along with them on their trip, but the boy's father politely declines, refusing to give into Rick's pleading puppy-dog eyes, and so the cop settles for the next best thing by handing Morgan a walkie-talkie so that they can at least stay in contact. It's a sweet gesture, and by God does it twist Negan's heartstrings some, but Morgan himself was a stubborn man, and he hopes that that stubbornness doesn't get the man killed in the long run. He'd hate for a nice kid like Duane to end up all alone on this bitch of an earth just because his father let his own goddamn feelings get in the way of their continued survival.

With an exchange of hands and heartfelt farewells, as well as a few more apologies from Negan himself, they're all just about ready to head off when Morgan freezes in place, hand immediately going for his gun, and all eyes follow his line of sight to see a fucking walker walking towards them from the other side of the station's fence. The thing's dressed up in the same fancy-schmancy uniform as Rick's, and just when he's about ready to comment on that fact, Rick utters the name, "Leon Basset;" immediately recognizing the man and mentioning that he was some kid that he wasn't much too particularly fond of before his accident. But still, Rick, being the compassionate fuck that he was, wanted to put the man out of his misery anyway, which involved the use of his gun. Both him and Morgan shoot down the idea, but Rick is adamant and moves for the damn thing anyway, knowing full well that the noise will bring all the undead fuckers to the yard in a matter of minutes. Morgan takes a step back, ready to retreat to the car and flee with Duane in tow to safety, but Negan holds Rick back, grip sturdy on the man's wrist as an idea pops into his head.

"Come on, Rick," Negan urges softly, making sure that Rick was the only one that could hear him, "There's no need to resort to that, i'm pretty sure there are other ways you can go about doing this without having to bring so much goddamned attention to the station here. And besides, you know Duane and Morgan would probably love to take advantage of the fucking showers again before they come and join us in Atlanta, and it'd sure be much easier on them if this place wasn't flooded with all those dead sons of bitches, don't you think?"

Rick frowns, gun still aimed at his former brother in arms, but then his gaze flickers to where Negan's fingers are curled around Lucille's handle, and at long last, he lowers the gun. 

"Lucille-"

"Bingo," Negan replies cheekily with a grin. "Now how's about you start up the car, and I take care of your boy, Basset, here, for you. Yeah?"

The man hesitates, but nevertheless slips his gun back into its holster, looking Negan in the eyes with parted lips, "I want to do it."

"Start up the car, yeah sure-"

"No," Rick utters, voice clear as day, "I want to be the one that takes care of Leon. It should be me. I owe him that much."

Negan raises his brows, reluctant to let another person touch, let alone, hold Lucille, but he soon relents, as it truly was a small price to pay if it meant that they could all drive easy without having to worry about the dead attempting to swarm their fucking cars over one lousy little gunshot. Handing the bat over to Rick, the man nods his thanks and jokes about putting all his early morning batting practice to the test as he then heads to the other side of the building. With a few minutes time, Rick presents himself, tapping Lucille on the wall next to him to gain the walker's attention as Basset rips himself away from the metal fence and staggers towards the man with renewed vigor. It doesn't take much to bring him down, and with only two hits, Rick is able to take the fucker out, breath heavy as the man heaves from the exertion of it all. Of course, he had looked a bit sad doing it, maybe even a little horrified, but Negan couldn't help but clap, breaking the tension-filled silence with his censored revelry, "Dang Rick, two for the price of one! I'm so fu-frickin' proud of you!"

Morgan sings his praises as well, albeit a bit more subdued, but Rick waves them both off as he makes his way back around, and they officially part ways without any more fucking interruptions from the town's wandering dead as they all got settled into their respective vehicles.  
   
And then they're off; or so Negan thinks. Just as he's in the middle of enjoying the scenery as it flies by his window, the newfound thrill of being in a car again surging through his veins like a fucking cat on crack, the car gradually slows down, grinding to a not so welcome halt. Negan immediately turns his head, sending Rick a look that clearly says 'What the shit?' but the man in uniform is clearly looking elsewhere, putting the car into park, and taking his gun out of its holster once more. Rick doesn't say anything, doesn't even try to explain himself as he opens his door and steps out, which results in Negan doing the same exact thing with impatience and agitation taking full precedent in his mind.

"What are you doing, Rick?" Negan asks with an exasperated sigh, leaning against the car with his arms crossed as he awaits Rick's answer.

The man in question takes in a deep breath and tilts his head towards the empty space in front of them, cryptically murmuring, "....There's something I have to do."

Negan places a hand on his hip, doing his best impression of Rick by squinting his eyes and looking at the other man like he was talking complete and utter fucking nonsense, "Like what? You gonna stick that gun up your ass behind that bush over there? Because if you are, then you can do it out here right in the fucking open cuz' there ain't nobody but these dead folks roaming around, and me; and I want to watch."

Rick shoots him a bewildered look, before running a hand down his face in what he can only assume is frustration. Negan sighs and tries his best to revert back into an adult for Rick's sake, placing an amiable hand on one of the man's stiff shoulders as he then gestures towards the open grass with a sweep of his arm and a flick of his wrist for emphasis.

"Okay, so what exactly are you looking for then?"

"The walker," Rick quietly utters with his cheek pressed against the collar of his shirt, "The one that we saw when we first came here. I-I wanted to see it before we left," he then glances down at the gun in his hands, "Wanted to show it a little mercy." 

Negan shakes his head. "If you wanted to show these things mercy, then we'd be wasting ammo like no tomorrow cleaning this place up."

Rick whips his head around, glaring up at him as if he were in an excruciating amount of pain as he all but chokes out his response through bared teeth, "Look, I don't expect you to understand, so you can wait around in the car for all I care! But this is something that I just gotta do, okay?"

And with one last look, Rick blows past him and begins to search for the damn walker on his own - his words resonating with Negan as they begin to sink in, echoing in the back of his mind. The logical side of his brain told him to stay put and let the other man run off some steam, taking his pissy ass attitude along with him; but the part of Negan's brain that was completely enamored with Rick had told him otherwise. Obviously Rick is distraught, this shit apparently means a whole lot to him judging by how strongly he had reacted when he had rather thoughtlessly denounced his intentions; how he had shook, his face flushed from exasperation, with a sense of urgency mingling with the broken sound of his voice. It was troubling to say the least, and he, by no means, wanted Rick to silently hold this over him for the rest of the fucking trip, because he was sure the guy wasn't beyond holding a little grudge or two if push really came to shove. And so, with a huff and a groan in the face of how much of a goddamn pushover he has become, Negan breaks into a jog to catch up with Rick's receding back and is rewarded with Rick looking pleased as shit as he gives him a small smile of gratitude in return, filling Negan with a strong sense of relief.

Luckily, the walker that Rick was looking for had left behind a trail of slightly bent grass in her wake, and they're able to find her in no time flat amongst a clearing just a few yards away. It's pathetic, watching it struggle, yet he can see why Rick had been so set on finding her. The thing crawls with a purpose, like its got someplace to be; and although hunger is probably what's driving her at this point, Negan can't help but wonder if muscle memory might be at play here too, or just any type of memory at all. Normally the dead would make their way towards the nearest food source, the tiniest of sounds attracting them in droves, and yet this one in particular is going the opposite direction, away from the crowd and towards the unknown. There ain't gonna be nobody wherever she's going, and yet, she persists. It's like whenever Morgan's wife comes to her family's door in the middle of the night, stepping onto the porch and rattling the doorbell without so much as a single thought running through that rotten skull of hers, and it makes him wonder if this woman has a family of her own that she's trying to get back to as well. It's best not to have any kind of sympathy for the dead, lest they become harder to kill as a result, but seeing how Rick treats this walker in particular reminds him of some of the humanity that he has lost over the past month and the surging emptiness that he feels right in his gut that makes him shudder from how bereft of emotion he is when he glances down at the woman's face and feels nothing at all.

In the end, it's a quiet affair; Rick's brand of mercy. The man gets down on his haunches, crouching all weepy-eyed with his lower lip trembling like a motherfucker as he simply studies the damn thing, watching the woman writhe and struggle as it continues to crawl to fuck knows where. But eventually she turns her head towards Rick's direction, like it can sense his very presence, and it chokes Rick up like no tomorrow as he begins to apologize to the damn thing; something he hadn't done with any of the walkers that he had taken down prior to her.

"I'm sorry this happened to you," Rick laments, the man's utter compassion for the living corpse filling his throat with gravel once more. The thing - the walker, then cocks its head like it can actually understand him, reaching its arm out to Rick as he looks on, eyes brimming with tears that threaten to spill. And with that, Rick aims the gun, shooting the woman in the head with point-blank precision, and effectively putting the damn thing out of its misery, once and for all.

There's a moment of silence; the quiet serenity of the forest filling in the immense gap as the trees, with the soothing crunch of their branches and leaves, rustle and blow against the breeze, along with the buzz of the insects that combat the overwhelming stillness of the surrounding area with a symphony of their own making. Sweat drips profusely from his brow, however, his main focus is fixed solely on Rick's bowed head as he continues to observe the man from afar, propped up against a tree as he appreciates the minimal shade that it provides. 

Various ideas and thoughts run through his head in deliberation, and Negan finds himself flipping back and forth between two solutions to the very problem that he now faces as he watches the man before him solemnly mourn for not just the walker that he had just killed, but also for the life that he had used to live. But with the passing of time, everything becomes clear to him and what he must do, and Negan makes his decision.

"Well," Negan proclaims as he makes his way over to Rick, getting a small kick out of the way the man immediately perks up when called to attention, "This has all been well and good, but now there's something that I ought to do as well."

Rick tilts his head in question, rasping, "Oh, what is it?"

"Let's just say you've given me some much needed inspiration." Extending his hand out to Rick, Negan helps the man up and the two of them begin to head back when Rick promptly asks, "Can't you just tell me?"

"And what?" Negan huffs, "Ruin the fucking surprise? I don't think so."

They make their way back the same way they came, bypassing the cruiser in favor of following the unmistakable sound of gunfire in the distance. Rick, of course, questions him every second of the way of their impromptu detour, but Negan ignores him, deflecting the man's questions until they make their way down a familiar street and he notices the way that Rick stiffens up, immediately freezing in place when he catches sight of a walker dressed in a flowing nightgown, stumbling her way down the intersection without so much as a sign of a horde in her general vicinity. 

"That's-" 

"Morgan's wife," Negan declares, twirling Lucille in his grip as he makes his way over to her with conviction.

"Negan, don't-" Rick immediately pleads, but it does nothing to deter the man from achieving his mission as Negan proceeds to knock her down with a single hit and sends her plummeting to the ground. It was only inevitable that he was going to splatter someone's brains onto this particular stretch of land, really; it was all just a matter of fucking time. And with Rick confirming to him who exactly this walker was, it was time for him to deliver what he deemed was necessary. 

"I didn't want you to see this, Rick," Negan calls out from over his shoulder apologetically, "I really didn't. But I just did not know what the hell she looked like. So...sorry in advance."

He then scowls, seething through clenched teeth when he notices that the hit that he had made did not result in an instant kill like he had wanted it to, and so, he swiftly raises Lucille above his head to finish the job only to feel a firm hand place itself upon his shoulder blade, stopping him in his tracks. The man's touch calms him, and for a second, Negan finds himself leaning into it, forgetting his place, until Rick roughly grits out, "Morgan needs to do this himself," from behind him in that sanctimonious drawl of his, and he promptly snaps out of it. He knows that Rick is about to continue, to no doubt list off the many reasons as to why the man in question needs to do his own goddamn dirty work, but Negan already knows the truth; from seeing the hesitation in Morgan's eyes, to the mere unequivocal fact that the man's wife was still up and at it after all this time - Negan knows how this is all going to end and he'd be damned if he allowed the cycle to continue any further.

"Don't you get it?!" Negan snaps, shaking off the offending hand that had been perched on his back and effectively shutting Rick up for just a second before the guy predictably retorts back, "Get what?!"

There's a pause, and before he knows it, he's muttering, "Goddammit," under his breath as he briefly takes in the sight of Morgan's wife, Jenny, lying atop the asphalt below; how she twitches and groans, her bony fingers repeatedly fidgeting against her sunken-in chest, and all he can really do is shake his head and swallow before the truth spontaneously spills from between his lips, "Morgan had his chance, Rick. But he fucking blew it, like I knew he would. Man's shooting the fuck out of all those other fuckers out here like it's goddamn hunting season, but her? No. He just didn't have the guts to go through with it, and he probably never will. And I should know, because I couldn't fucking do it myself!"

And with that, Negan hits her again, this time with all the strength that he can muster so that she'll stay down, but it suddenly feels so very wrong to do it and he can practically feel the change in the way that his arms grow heavy with the strain. Like he said, sympathy for the dead was a dangerous thing to abide by, and just seeing her gasp and hiss has him come undone when it's Lucille that he sees looking up at him now with those dead eyes of hers. He shakes his head again, eyes clenched shut to rid himself of the haunting image of his late wife reaching out to him from the darkness, only to then open them back up and resume his dutiful task. He had promised himself that he was going to put her down as humanely as possible, for Morgan's sake, and for his own, but in the end, it seems that he has already pushed it too far, and that is the last thing that runs through his head before he delivers the final blow.

When it is done, Negan pants, chest heaving as he looks down upon his work only for a feeling of numbness to grab ahold of him, refusing to let go. He tries to straighten up, despite wanting to do the exact fucking opposite, wiping the sweat from his upper lip, and proceeds to turn around to begin walking back to the car only for him to then stumble, momentarily losing his own goddamn footing. But before he can fall face-first onto the ground, Rick is there in an instant, wrapping his arms around him and keeping him steady. He leans forward despite himself, and he must be heavy because Rick is having a bit of a hard time keeping him afloat as he then shouts something into his ear, but, for whatever reason, he can't discern what it is as his main focus is on the fact that his field of vision has gone all screwy on him. But soon enough, his ability to see and hear come rushing back to him, and Negan is at least able to process Rick's concerns as the man grips his shoulders, shaking him for all that he's worth. It's still hard to focus however, his line of sight wavering to the point where it's positively nauseating to even attempt to treat things like they're normal, and so he allows his eyes to flutter shut and does the next best thing by focusing on the little things instead; like the crisp sound of Rick's voice, the faint smell of his shampoo, to the soft press of his fingers as they firmly dig into the meat of his shoulders. 

It succeeds to snap him out of it somewhat, and when Negan opens his eyes, his gaze is fixed solely on Rick and his big ol' eyes as the man worriedly asks him, "What's wrong?" 

But instead of doing the right thing like he ought to, Negan quickly mutters that nothing is fucking wrong with him, shaking off Rick's hold on him as he then resumes his walk back to the car in an insufferable daze, his body moving on its own accord, mind nothing but a welcome blur of complete and utter nothingness.

"We need to talk about this," is what he hears Rick say next, but it sounds so far away, and to that he can only nod in response as the two of them silently make their way back to the car together. Rick does, rather warily, send looks of concern in his direction every now and again, but either the man understands that he isn't in the right position to talk at the moment, or that he's simply too damn speechless to let his own words speak for himself, and so the silence between them, in of itself, is truly deafening as the sound of gunshots continue to reverberate in the background, undeterred by what had just occurred.

When they make it back to the vehicle, Rick settles himself back into the driver's seat, all while Negan takes his time, grabbing a bottle of disinfectant from his bag before heading on over to the nearby grass to wipe blood, rotted flesh, and whatever else kind of residue that had been left over, from Lucille, before pouring the liquid on top to wash away the rest of the gory evidence. After that's done, he slowly but surely makes his way back to Rick, climbing into the passenger's seat and promptly shuts the door behind him; wedging Lucille between himself and the edge of his seat as the hard wooden surface of the object digs insistently into his side.

For awhile they just stare off into the distance, neither one of them even so much as attempting to talk to the other as they distracted themselves with the road ahead, gravel complimented by the very greenery that enveloped their path. It isn't until a few minutes pass before Rick finally gives in, bringing attention to himself by noisily clearing his throat, as he then begins to speak, "You named your bat after your wife, didn't you?"

He says it quietly, and his voice is soft, so goddamn soft, and Negan is helpless when it comes to the effect that it has on him as he then swallows, uttering two words in response, "I did."

He can hardly recognize his own voice at the admission; it comes out sounding so fucking small, so fucking weak, and just so sickeningly fragile in a way, like he's a goddamn teacup, just ready to shatter at any given moment. And he does. Instinctively raising a hand to wipe something from his face, Negan is welcomed with the warm precise trail of tears as they trickle down his cheeks and it instantly snaps him out of his shock-ridden funk. He's been crying, Negan realizes, he's been fucking crying like a prissy ass little bitch, and when he notices the way that his eyes simply sting from leaking so goddamn much, he realizes that he's been crying for quite some time and he only registered it just now, and Rick - Rick saw him doing it this whole entire time and he didn't say a damn thing about it.

A part of him is mad, angry even, as he glares at the moisture leftover from his tears on his now trembling hand, believing that he had been beyond such emotions after all this fucking time, and that nothing could truly affect him because nothing else mattered in this fucked up world that they had all been forced to inhabit. But rather, it just isn't that fucking simple; and when he thinks about it, he can only assume that some malevolent force had put his grief on pause when he had stepped out of that hospital all those weeks ago and left his wife to rot because he didn't deserve to function like a normal human being, only for it to then press play, to resume for some godforsaken reason at the most inopportune moment. And it hurts, it fucking hurts so goddamn much.

Banging the back of his head against the headrest, Negan trembles, letting out a shuddering sigh as he digs his fingers into his face, mouth open in a silent scream before he seethes, sucking in a breath through gritted teeth. Conveying emotions was always such a bitch for him, especially when it came down to projecting his own goddamn anguish, because once the tears start a-flowing they don't plan on stopping until they wring you dry for all that you're worth, and he can't fucking believe that he's doing it now with Rick here, awake and present. He tries with all his might to try and not succumb to the pain that burrows in his heart, but nothing works, and he only ends up making himself a whole hell of a lot worse in the process.

And so, the only thing that he can do now, is talk. And talk he does. "Her name was Lucille," Negan croaks, but for just one moment he can't even seem to do that right. He's said her name aloud before, countless times in fact, but this is different. He's not talking about the stupid bat anymore; he's talking about her. He's talking about his wife.

He stops. Tries again. Then stops again. Until finally, the flow of his voice is undeterred and he succeeds, after taking the time to simply breathe.

"Just like Morgan, I couldn't put her down," Negan continues, ignoring the slight quiver rising in his throat, "When she had turned, it was the first time I had seen one of those damn things up close, and I - I just didn't know what to do. I had first thought that she had miraculously survived after I watched her close her eyes for what I had thought was the last fucking time, but there she was, in all her undead glory, trying to take a goddamn bite out of me, and I fled. I kissed her goodbye, and I fled. Luckily, I was able to get this kid to do the deed for me; saw him drag a fucking fire extinguisher, of all things, to the room that I had left her in, but I didn't dare watch. It just happened, and I let it happen. I already had my final moments with her already, but in the end, I couldn't bring myself to do the honors of killing her myself, and now - now I have to live with that. I failed her in life, like I failed her in death."

The urge to suddenly choke is inescapable and Negan briefly has to stop to counteract it somehow. His throat is dry, and he feels like he's all but gasping for breath, but after a few moments, he presses on, and continues where he had left off just so he could get it all out of his system before it's too late and he closes himself back up again, "So I guess you can say that was why I got so fucking upset last night. What I saw in Morgan, was what I had seen in myself. _Weakness_. We're weak, Rick. And I had hoped that I could just knock some sense into him, especially since he still has his fucking kid with him. I was afraid that seeing that they'd allowed her to get that fucking close already, that they'd just let her get even closer, and closer, until one of them ended up biting the dust sooner or later. And so, I did what I had to do. I took Morgan's chance to redeem himself to his wife, and now we're both on the same goddamn boat."

Negan sighs deeply, refusing to look at Rick and the no doubt disgusted expression he must have on his face, as he stares up at the ceiling instead and finds some kind of comfort in it, "Morgan will probably find out when she doesn't come a'knockin' on their door later tonight, and he'll see her body no doubt when they finally head out of that goddamn house for good. He'll just have to deal with the regret of not putting her down himself, like i've been doing for the past month and a half. And maybe, just maybe, they'll be better for it."

He then waits for Rick to say something, anything; to berate him, to fucking smother him with the undeniable fact that he was a horrible, horrible man and for him to inevitably kick him to the curb; but it never comes. Instead, there's a gentle hand that settles itself on his knee, and when he garners the courage to look back upon Rick's gorgeous face, there isn't anger, nor is there disgust, that lies within his expression, but a look of understanding as the man softly gives him another one of his precious as fuck smiles.

"Thank you, for telling me," Rick utters gratefully, "I know how hard that must have been for you, and it makes things much more clearer now that I know."

Negan, although thankful for the turn of events, can't help but bite his lip, and stare confusedly at the man before him as he asks, "You're not...mad?"

Rick exhales, giving him a look that clearly says that he should know better as he leans back in his seat," Of course i'm not mad. A bit disappointed, yes. But mad? No. You felt that what you did was right, and although I don't exactly agree with how you went about it, I get it. I just wish you had consulted with me about it in the first place before you went ahead and did it. I'm not stupid, you know. I could tell that you were hiding something from me from the very beginning. I'm a cop, remember?"

He says that last bit in jest, and Negan can't help but let the corners of his mouth lift into a smile, "I'll consider that in the future then."

They sit comfortably still, and Negan takes the moment for what it is, soaking up all the warm and fuzzy feelings that he feels inside like a warm sponge, until Rick abruptly sits upright, and utters "Oh!" in remembrance, as he then shifts his hand across the dash until it rests upon a worn photo which he plucks from its respective fold.

Rick looks down at the picture fondly with a huge smile on his face, but when he turns around to show it to Negan, he catches himself, thinking that whatever he was about to do next was somehow insensitive in a way, and schools his expression as he meekly goes on to ask "...Do you still want to see a picture of my family?"

When Negan says, "Of course I do," with the same amount of enthusiasm that the other man had shown just a second ago, however, Rick is elated and tentatively hands the piece of paper over to him.

"This is them," Rick says, beaming with pride, "This is my wife and my son."

Lori is beautiful, with long flowing hair, and a radiant smile. She's not overblown gorgeous like a supermodel or some shit; but she's the kind of woman that makes you feel at home with one single look from her warm and steady gaze, as she then kisses you on the cheek and asks you how your day was. Immediately he wants to take back all the things that he had said about her in his head, and apologize, but he knows that if he were to do that right now, and beg Rick for forgiveness, he'll think he lost his goddamn mind. Carl, on the other hand, looks like a mischievous little shit, but no doubt is positively adorable, all the same,  taking more after his mother with the exception of his eyes that he most definitely got from Rick. In other words, the three of them made for a picture perfect family, if he did say so himself, and if they were all still alive, it would be an absolute pleasure to meet them both in the flesh. Rick truly was one lucky bastard; at least, in that regard.

Negan smiles warmly despite himself as he then hands the photo back to Rick, who then hooks it onto his quite crowded sun visor for safekeeping. "Christ, Rick, you had it made, my friend! You most certainly did."

"I know," Rick replies back with a grin, sighing wistfully as he touches the picture lovingly before settling his hands back onto his lap.

Not wanting the quiet to envelop them any further, Negan sits up and excitedly declares, "Well, now that we have all that shit out of the way, we should probably go ahead and get this fucking show on the road, don't you think, Rick?"

Rick laughs and leans forward in his seat, placing his hands on the steering wheel for emphasis, "I sure do."

And with that, Rick starts the engine, and they're officially on their way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this chapter will probably be edited sometime later after I wake up since it's currently 5 am over here, and i'm not really in my right mind to edit and all that junk when that particular time rolls around lol)
> 
> So there y'all have it, these assholes are finally out on the open road!! :D
> 
> I hope Rick wasn't too, I dunno, annoying here, and that y'all aren't too offended by the changes I did end up making! Negan killing Jenny was always a given, but the whole Leon Basset thing was something I debated with myself several times when it really came down to it because I always felt that in the show Basset's mercy killing always took away from bicycle girl's in a way, so I came to a compromise that I hope you guys can at least tolerate!
> 
> p.s - Negan is an emotionally repressed ho. That is all, that is my message of the day (now if you'll excuse me, I now have the ability to post some of my other fics that have been left on draft and I will no longer feel guilty about doing so :D)


End file.
